


In My Blood

by Rhysanoodle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 36,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysanoodle/pseuds/Rhysanoodle
Summary: Post-ACOFAS. In which Cassian again participates in the Blood Rite and both he and Nesta must deal with the consequences.Language throughout, but any particularly NSFW chapters will be marked in the chapter notes.





	1. Chapter 1

Cassian fought his way through the blood-slicked forest before reaching the base of the sacred mountain.  


Six days. He’d already been out here for almost the full week, and he was running out of time.

 _Alone_. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly felt this way in centuries. Even during the last Blood Rite, he’d quickly found Rhys and Az, and the three of them had slogged their way through enemy combatants. Together.

For the past year, he’d been practically in isolation. Sure, he had the other Illyrians in Windhaven, and he had been forced to live with Nesta, but all the former still treated him with a sense of icy resentment. Hopefully today would change that. At least with the Illyrians.

After months of trying to unite the Illyrians and quell the undercurrent of the rebellion, Cassian had volunteered for the Blood Rite once again — the only Illyrian to ever attempt it twice. And soon to be the only Illyrian in history to ever touch the sacred stone more than once as well, he smirked to himself.

After this, there would be no denying his claim, his accomplishments — even if they’d been ignoring them for five centuries.

He’d come to an agreement with the camp leaders. If he survived — if he succeeded — they had to bend the knee to him as the newly-minted King of the Illyrians. He’d worked out the finer details of this new title with Rhys and Feyre in a moment of desperation. They were finally on the brink of an all-out civil war. If he failed, he’d likely already be dead, but in addition, the dissenters got to hold their own tribunal to select their new leader. Regardless of the outcome, somebody would be on the throne by the end of the week.

They’d all cemented the bargain with new tattoos, his running down the length of his spine, securing unwavering allegiance for whoever their future leader may be. His High Lord and Lady had also participated in the ceremony to make it official.

Already, he’d been the focus of attack, individual warriors fighting to help clinch their own camp lords’ future success. By his math, he’d already fought off hundreds of aspiring warriors with nothing more than his fists and a staff he’d formed out of a mighty tree branch. Fortunately, centuries of dedicated practice were paying off.

Unfortunately, his last skirmish, against a camp lord’s son, had ended with a nasty gash across his abdomen, and he knew he wasn’t going to survive through the night without medical attention and his magic. He had to get up that mountain now.

Wrapping the wound as tightly as he could with the remains of his shirt, he slowly made his way up Ramiel. Every reach he made up the sheer rock face was pure agony, the wound stretching and shrinking, his vision blacking out from all his nerve endings feeling like they were going to burn him from the inside out — not to mention the sheer fatigue in his muscles. The other small injuries seemed to be adding up right about now, begging him to give in. To let it all end here.

If he surrendered, they may spare his life, might let him return in shame to Velaris. He shook his head, not letting himself even consider the possibility. A life spent in degradation, having lost his siphons, would be no life at all. Better to die here, even with so much in his life left unfinished than suffer through that for the rest of his meager existence.

By midday, he’d made it halfway up the cliff face when his body gave out. He just needed a short rest, he assured himself as he dragged himself into a small, naturally-formed cave in the mountain-side. At this point he just had to trust that he’d knocked out most of his competitors, and they’d killed some of the others as well. 

Cassian didn’t let himself focus on the grim reality that he’d had to severely injure most of this year’s recruits as they attempted to fight him to the death  — thankfully he had been able to keep the casualties to a minimum despite the circumstances — to ensure his people’s overall survival as his eyes drifted closed.

* * *

Cassian awoke hours later to the sound of boots scraping on rock.

 _Shit_. Somebody had caught up with him. Trying to suppress his groan, he reached out for his staff. He had one chance at survival. He had to smack his opponent off the face of the mountain before he was discovered. He had little chance of surviving hand-to-hand combat now.

As the intruder approached his hiding spot, they paused, and more surprisingly he heard a low voice grunt. “I’m not going to hurt you, Commander.” He recognized that voice. It was that of Petros, the bastard son of the Lord of Stormridge. 

Letting out a chuckle, he rasped, “And why would you let me live? Why not end me right here?” still making sure to keep himself hidden from the whelp. “Surely if you ended the Prince of Bastards and were the sole participant of the Rite to scale the mountain, it would curry favor with your father. He might even recognize you as one of his true sons.”

“You know as well as I do that will never happen,” the lad whispered, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “He would use it to become king himself, but no more. Even if he praised me upon my victory, it would last only as long as it took them to place the crown upon his head. Not a second more would pass before he shipped me off to be on the front-lines for an easy little cleanup for his mess.”

“Now get up, sir.” He showed himself fully to Cassian, extending a hand, and helping the bloodied warrior to his feet.

“You’ve got some guts kid,” Cassian wheezed. “I like that, but don’t ever call me ‘sir’ again. Let’s go.”

Petros took the lead, deftly scaling the rock face. He looked barely winded and fairly rested, now that Cassian got a better look at him, as if he’d managed to avoid encountering most of the other aspiring warriors altogether.

“How’d you manage to stay so _clean_ , boy?” Cassian grunted, as he struggled to make it to the next handhold.

Petros chuckled. “You and I were released practically next to each other. I’ve slowly made my way to the mountain in your wake, ensuring that most who would otherwise come for me, as a lord’s son — however much of a bastard I am — would be distracted by you instead.”

Clever. While Cassian wished the whelp had stepped in for some much-needed assistance earlier, he couldn’t help but admire his cunning, his instinct to stay in the shadows and avoid conflict altogether if possible. A ghost of a smile flitted across his face as he was reminded of the brother he so dearly missed. Cassian had to make it to the summit. If not for himself, for Az. The babe growing in Elain’s womb needed an uncle to look up to after all.

Cassian and Petros pushed through the last bit of the climb, his vision blurring slightly as they crested the summit. He had no time to enjoy to view of Illyria from all the way up here, as he knew he was fading fast. Grabbing one of Petros’ hands in his own, he laid them both simultaneously upon the onyx monolith now in front of them.

Fitting for this to end just as it had five centuries ago. With him sharing the victory with someone he now considered a brother. They’d had most of the afternoon to converse during their arduous journey, and Cassian had a newfound respect for the boy who’d endured so much in his seventeen years, just like Cassian as an adolescent. Petros hadn’t had a mother-figure like Rhys’ to take him in though — no brothers with which to commiserate during those tumultuous teen years.

That was all about to change now, Cassian thought, smiling to himself as they were spirited back to Windhaven, and everything faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

Nesta Archeron grunted as she parried a blow from Emerie, her biceps singing from the vibrations of the practice sword. It was four days into the Blood Rite, and with many of the males choosing to spectate the event, she and the group of females she was training with were left to their own devices. **  
**

Cassian had enlisted her to be a sort of female emissary for the camp, but the two of them together still hadn’t been able to make any major changes there in the year since they’d come to permanently live in Windhaven. The females were training more often than before they’d arrived, managing to keep some of their number unclipped, but their participation in the Rite itself had been thoroughly laughed at by all the camp lords.

If she were being honest with herself, she hadn’t been giving the dispute her all, but what could the hovering bat expect of her? They’d been shoved together into this camp with him as practically a babysitter for her sister. While he was unwilling to admit it and still tried to give her some semblance of space in their shared cabin, she saw the disgust on his face when she came home drunk or bearing a bottle of wine. She knew exactly when he reported her drunken incidents to his superiors thanks to the lovely little letters she got from Feyre, who couldn’t be bothered to come scold her in person.

With so much opposition and the Rite soon approaching, Nesta and Cassian had backed down, preferring to bide their time and strike again when they could command more of their attention. At least, that’s what he had _told_ her.

Because then the moron had _volunteered_ for it. What in the hells he had been thinking when he and Rhysand came up with their insane plan, she had no idea. Cassian literally had to fight his way through hundreds of aspiring Illyrian warriors. While he fancied himself once of the strongest and fiercest warriors of all time, how he planned on surviving the onslaught of attacks he was sure to be fending off right now was beyond her.

But he hadn’t been slain yet. Surely, she would’ve heard of it. The Illyrians were practically foaming at the mouth, placing bets on who would finally bring him down. As if they’d been biding their time and silently waiting for this moment for centuries. Pigs. 

Nesta shook her head and cursed herself for the fact that her stomach had just plummeted at the thought of that. It was just because she didn’t want to be forced back to Velaris, she told herself. Even if it was still a veritable cage she’d been thrust into, the mountain camp provided her a lot more space and a breath of fresh air. And distance from the High Lord who obviously wanted nothing to do with her.

But if Cassian were to win…well suddenly she’d just be trading a bossy roommate for another overbearing leader. He’d become King of the Illyrians, and then suddenly he’d probably be even more insufferable than he already was. He’d hold power over her. 

Maybe she should just move to a new camp. Start over. He might still be a ruling figure in her life there, but she wouldn’t have to deal with him on a day-to-day basis. Just his policies.

Emerie feinted right and struck at Nesta’s legs with her practice sword, catching her off guard, and knocking her off her feet.

“You’re distracted,” Emerie shot at her. “Have been these past few days now, if we’re being honest with each other.”

“Am not,” Nesta spat back. “And mind your own business.” While Emerie could actually be considered a friend most of the time, Nesta still hated it when the know-it-all female stuck her nose too far into her business. She could stomach drinking with her, even have a good time playing cards together, until Emerie would sometimes pry a little too far. Try to get Nesta to show some sort of emotion or dig too deep into the past she was actively trying to forget. Then her walls would snap right back up, and she’d get up and leave. But at least Emerie was well-versed at conveniently seeming to forget those moments had occurred and never rehashed them with Nesta after-the-fact.

Nesta turned to walk out of the training ring, but Emerie caught her by the arm. “You’re not the best fighter, so it’s likely I still would’ve knocked you on your ass anyways, but it’s obvious something else has been on your mind this week. He’s going to make it out alright. You just need to trust him,” she thankfully said low enough that only Nesta could hear.

Nesta yanked out of Emerie’s grasp, and snarled, “I. Don’t. Care,” as she stomped through the camp back to their cabin to drown her unease, that spark which had just caught in her chest, in a bottle of wine.

* * *

Nesta didn’t come up for air for two more days. She was desperately trying to avoid any reminder of the conversation which had set her nerves on end and started this latest drinking spree. As the sun began to creep toward the horizon, and the insufferable nausea was finally being kept at bay, she began to tidy up.

Nesta started with herself. The last time she’d bathed had been before her fit in the training ring, and now that she was mostly sober, she winced at the state she’d descended into. As she stepped into the large, copper tub, big enough to fit Illyrian wings and therefore allowing her to be able to fully recline, she hissed at the heat of the water. It now rarely bothered her to submerge herself. Funny what a couple years of distance and necessity could do to heal the ache and dread. She could only hope that one day, the atrocities of the war would be far enough behind her that she could finally look forward.

The soothing lavender oils did their work, and Nesta soon found herself spotless and a bit more relaxed, the throbbing in her head which always accompanied the recovery from a binge having fading a bit.

She set about straightening up the cabin, though it didn’t take more than half an hour. Even in her squalor, she’d managed to leave most of it undisturbed, not wanting to have to deal with Cassian’s ire if he returned while she was still nursing her hangover.

Settling in with the latest installment of her latest favorite romance series, she crawled under the covers. She’d have to thank Emerie for special-ordering it from Velaris. The parcel had been on her doorstep when she’d finally bothered to step out into the brisk air of the Illyrian springtime this afternoon. A peace offering, after Nesta had thrown a veritable tantrum at her words in the ring the other day. Tomorrow. She’d deal with everyone else tomorrow.

* * *

Nesta was awoken by a banging on the door. She bolted upright, quickly realizing that it must’ve been the middle of the rutting night, and cursing whoever might be bothering her at this hour. She grabbed the thick blue robe which had been draped over the back of the lounge chair in her room, and donned it.

As she approached the door, she cautiously looked out the peep hole she’d had installed upon moving in to see a member of the camp patrol who must’ve been on duty tonight. The pounding continued again, followed by a curt yell of, “Nesta Archeron, open up!”

Sighing and not wanting to get told off for not following orders, she undid the deadbolts, one-by-one, and cracked the door just enough for her to poke her head through. “What do you need?” she snapped, letting him feel the full force of her wrath at being awoken.

The young man didn’t recoil as she was hoping he would though as he replied, “I need you to grab a change of Commander Cassian’s clothes and come with me.”

“Why couldn’t the bastard just come get them himself? He hadn’t even bothered to give me the courtesy of letting me know he’s returned. I’m sure he’s got plenty of _important things_ to do now that he’s apparently survived and been promoted, but surely they could wait until morning.”

“Look, Nesta. Frankly, I don’t give a damn whether or not you actually accompany me, but I need those clothes immediately, and as the only member of his household, you were the most logical person we could think of to notify. At least out of the people living in this camp.”

Nesta’s heart sunk deep into the pit of her stomach. Gods. She had to take a few deep breaths to keep from vomiting. He couldn’t be… No, it was impossible… She’d always known it was a possibility, but the bastard was like a cockroach, incredibly resilient to harm and persistent to a fault.

Judging by the fact that the soldier’s tone softened a bit and his voice lowered, Nesta knew she wasn’t hiding this inner turmoil well. Her mask couldn’t stand up to the wound that had just been torn open inside of her and was now consuming her being.

“Cassian’s still alive, but he’s in critical condition. With his magic stifled during the Rite, he was unable to use his Fae gifts of recovery on himself, and he fainted mere moments after arriving back here. We’ve sent a messenger to Lord Rhysand and Lady Feyre, but the journey to Velaris is a long one. It may be hours at least before someone from the Court arrives.”

Silence filled her head, and Nesta ran in a daze into Cassian’s room, grabbing the first set of comfortable clothes she saw. They were an unfolded set of loose pants and a linen shirt, but dirty or not, they’d have to do.

She proceeded to dart past the man in her doorway, like a bat out of hell, only realizing when she was already halfway to the healer’s hut that she hadn’t even remembered to put on a pair of boots.

As the gravel bit into the soles of her feet, it dawned on her that she hadn’t felt anything like the raw, visceral void that was tearing through her heart in over a year. Hadn’t known sheer terror like this since the day she’d covered his body with her own. Hadn’t even realized the numbness which had been blanketing her emotions since that day had begun to fade.

Nevertheless, hot tears streamed down her cheeks, contrasting the bitter night air that whipped around her as she kept running.


	3. Chapter 3

Nesta flung the door of the healer’s hut open, barely registering the deafening slam as it rebounded off the wall and not giving two shits if it disturbed anyone’s slumber. She was unhinged, her personal mission more important than their comfort. **  
**

 _Cassian_. The name clanged through her head. She had to reach him, refused to believe he was dying. She followed the tangy scent of blood through the hut, not failing to notice the trail of it winding its way to the back room. So much. There was too much blood. How was he even alive?

Bursting through the door that separated her from the male, she sank to her knees as she saw him unconscious on the cot. Cassian’s chest shuddered. Breathing. He was still breathing. His wings were spread underneath him, sporting their fair share of nicks and tears, and some abrasions from where they’d been roughly bound, but she vomited at the sight of the wound on his stomach.

It was grisly, splitting him open diagonally from pectoral to waist, and while she’d seen him recover from having his gut cleaved open before in battle, she could already smell this wound festering. It had been open at least all day, perhaps longer if he had gotten particularly unlucky.

Madja was leaning over him, focusing intently. Fortunately, her sister had had the foresight to send their most gifted healer and her acolytes to the camp for the week, to assist in the inflated number of injuries the Illyrians would be sustaining. Nesta just hoped she had enough energy left to save him.

Registering her presence, Madja invited Nesta to sit next to her, instructing her in how to heal the small wounds and handing her a tin of salve. Cauldron bless the healer for realizing that Nesta wouldn’t be content sitting still — that she needed a distraction of her own, needed to keep moving, to avoid sinking into utter despair.

After half an hour of the healer pouring magic into Cassian and stitching up the wound, Nesta assisted Madja with bandaging the warrior, and the room fell silent.

“That’s all we can do for him now. Let him rest. His outlook isn’t terrible. If he can make it through the rest of the night, he should recover.” Placing her hand on Nesta’s, she continued, “I’ve seen him lose copious amounts of blood more times than I care to keep track of at this point. The festering infection isn’t ideal, but there’s hope.”

Once Madja had left the room. Nesta scooted a chair next to his bed, and put her head in her hands. She’d been so numb for the past couple of years, she’d been completely keeping Cassian at a distance. Nesta had thought nothing could ever be worse than that day when they’d almost died together on that cliff now that the war was over, but she was so incredibly wrong. So much time had been wasted.

Sure, she hadn’t been ready to pursue a relationship of any kind with anyone after the war, but she’d always thought that those she pushed away would be waiting for her if she ever found her way back to herself again — if she were ever able to wake up one morning and not wish she were dead, not crave the finality she’d almost been given by the King of Hybern. It had taken _this_. This stupid, reckless move on Cassian’s part to shake her out of her haze.

She probably had a few hours alone to keep vigil over him. Feyre and Rhysand were due midday to witness the ceremonial ending of the Rite and congratulate those who completed it as well — as swearing in the new ruler of Illyria. Nesta was certain they’d winnow in right away as soon as they heard the news, but the message dispatch would take time.

Grabbing one of Cassian’s massive, calloused hands in her own, hoping to provide some comfort even though he wasn’t conscious and likely couldn’t even sense her presence, Nesta finally allowed herself to weep.

* * *

Nesta was awoken by a loud clamoring of voices. Coming to, she glanced out the window and saw the sun peeking over the horizon. Sometime during her watch, the sheer exhaustion of her physical state coupled with the intense emotional waterfall which had erupted out of her last night must have caused her to pass out.

She instinctually placed a hand on Cassian’s chest, careful to give the wounded section a wide berth. There was a light flutter beneath her palm and then the rise and fall of his chest. He’d made it. He was still feverish and gritting his teeth in pain through the pain-relieving potion and the herbs used to keep him asleep, but Madja had said he would likely recover. Nesta had to cling to that thought with everything in her being.

A light knocking echoed from the door to the hallway, and before Nesta could answer, the entire motley crew was filing into the cramped room. Mor ran up to him first, tears streaming down her lovely cheeks. Azriel followed closely behind her, and Nesta took note of the shadows flitting around his ears, likely whispering to him about the night’s proceedings.

“I think you should leave,” Mor said flatly, indicating the exit through which both Feyre and Rhysand were now entering.

When Nesta made no effort to move herself, the Shadowsinger amended, “Now… _please_.” The last word was clipped, but she saw the cold ire in his hazel eyes and thought it best to follow the instruction. She was on particularly rocky ground with him after the spat she’d had with Elain as she prepared to be kicked out of Velaris, cursing her sister for agreeing with the stuck-up pricks who were banishing her. Azriel had physically removed Nesta from the estate property and then flown away without uttering a word to her or looking back.

Keeping her head down, she ambled past the rest of the Inner Circle and walked briskly back to her cabin, not wanting to have to stomach trying to interact with them.

Nesta curled up in her bed, shutting out the world around her and sank into an uneasy, nightmare-filled slumber.

* * *

Feyre came knocking on her door around supper time. Nesta begrudgingly invited her inside, and gestured to the dining table. There was a cold plate of roasted venison that Nesta hadn’t been able to stomach atop it. It would go to waste if nobody else ate it, but Feyre studiously ignored it, instead going for the couch across from where Nesta herself had sat. .

They sat in a pregnant silence for minutes before her sister finally broke it with a quiet, “Madja has stopped feeding him the tonic. He’ll likely wake up soon. Would you like to come back and see him?”

Nesta tensed, realizing that she had no idea what she’d say to him when he awoke — had no clue how to describe the thoughts that had been eddying in her head for the last day.

“I thought nobody wanted me there? They were pretty clear about that when they kicked me out.”

“Honestly, Nesta, can you blame them?” Feyre’s voice was beginning to rise now. “You’ve treated him like shit for years. You can’t expect Mor and Az to just forgive and forget that just because he almost died and you showed an ounce of compassion for him this one time.” Her sister frowned. “I’m trying to offer you a truce here, but you need to be prepared for the fact that your behavior towards him hasn’t gone unnoticed. And there’s definitely some harbored resentment at what you’ve put him through.”

Nesta flinched as the words hit their mark — knowing them to be true, but wishing she didn’t have to answer for her transgressions right now, when she just wanted to make sure Cassian was okay.

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t.” Nesta sank lower in her chair, burying her face in her hands. Now that she’d finally broken through the barrier of her numbness, the urge to just stop everything and cry herself dry was stronger than ever. She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself.

The next thing she knew, Feyre had crossed the room and was wrapping her arms around Nesta. “Hey, we’ve all been through dark times in our lives. We get that you’ve been handling it differently than anyone else would. You’ve been kind of awful to everyone since the war, but if you’re finally at a point where you’d like to actually deal with what’s bothering you instead of shutting us out and drinking it away, we’ll be there for you. It might take some of the others awhile to come around, but you know you can always count on me.”

Nesta swallowed slowly, and looked her sister in the eyes. “I want to go see him,” she murmured with as much strength as she could muster, though it was still difficult to keep her voice from shaking.

She turned and walked out of the small house, hearing Feyre fall into step behind her.

Nesta felt bad for not offering her sister a concrete answer, but right now it was all she could do to keep her composure. Tomorrow, next week, next month even, she’d deal with what had been ailing her for so long, but today, she couldn’t think about herself. The overwhelming storm brewing in her head wouldn’t give her a reprieve from her torrential thoughts about him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Gods_. Everything fucking hurt. **  
**

As Cassian slowly began to regain consciousness, there was little room for thoughts of anything else. What the in the rutting hells had happened? He was still drugged so thoroughly that he couldn’t sort out the memory of the past few days in his head.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty has finally decided to come back to us,” a beautiful voice trilled. Mor. He opened his eyes to find her at his bedside, Azriel flanking his other side. Rhys, Feyre, and Amren were all standing in the doorway. 

There was another scent that took him a moment to place. 

_Nesta_. Where was she? Had she been here? Visited him while he was still unconscious? The thought of that was utterly laughable. She hadn’t given two shits about him for over a year. They’d lived together in the same house, and she couldn’t even be bothered to speak to him unless required to. 

He’d tried. Even done some quite childish things to try to get a rise out of her, to make her _acknowledge_ him for once. Every time, he’d just been met with…nothing. Emptiness.

Eventually, he’d stopped trying. Cassian wasn’t going to let her see how truly lonely and unhappy he was. His friends could’ve at least bothered to visit him more often to help pull him out of this pit of despair that had been slowly swallowing him since he’d been isolated here.

Choosing to ignore her possible presence for now, Cassian turned to Mor, and pasted the most cocky grin he could on his face. “You’re not supposed to be my dashing prince, I hope.”

That earned him a light smack on the arm. Fuck. Even though the small scrapes he’d had there had already healed rather nicely, everything still just _burned_. Hissing, he jerked it away from her, but Mor wasn’t done with him.

“I swear on the Cauldron if you ever do something so reckless again…” Tears were streaming down her face now as she failed to finish that thought, and Cassian flinched. He’d known how much this would hurt her. They’d decided to try to keep this operation fairly secretive. It had been a last minute bargain made out of desperation, and he hadn’t wanted the others worrying about him.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Mor,” Rhys murmured from the doorway. “Nobody outside the camp members and myself and Feyre were supposed to know until it was all settled.”

Mor gave her cousin a withering look that Cassian knew meant he’d be paying for that decision later but thankfully let it go.

“If it helps, the camp lords are pissing themselves right now. I even had some trying to convince me that you were too indisposed to accept your new title in some sort of sad attempt to find any loophole which would change the outcome,” Rhys smirked.

“It seems a good amount of money was bet on their prized sons coming away victorious, especially considering the fact that they schemed to team up against you, and some of their families are now absolutely devastated. Pity.” The smug look on Rhys’ face as he picked at his nails indicated that his brother thought it was anything but.

“I’m ready to get to work now. Let’s get me crowned and get this over with,” Cassian grimaced as he tried to sit up. Fire shot through his abdomen, forcing him back down onto the bed.

“It can wait, Cass. For all intents and purposes, the bargain crowned you the second you landed in Windhaven. A public ceremony can wait. Madja mentioned the fact that your intestines were practically hanging out of your gut when you arrived. You need to rest for a few days, and that’s an order.” Rhys’ last sentence was clipped, obviously fighting back an urge to scold him that would make him damn well hypocritical. This had been Cassian’s idea, yes, but Rhys and Feyre had agreed, even knowing the danger he’d be facing.

“Let me worry about the little things, brother,” Azriel pleaded from his side. “If there is anything pressing, I can always come ask for your opinion, but I think I can handle breaking your throne in for you for one measly week.”

“ _A week?_ ” Cassian gasped.

“Yes, you moron.” Feyre approached to embrace him. “Your magic was stifled during the Rite, and as they begin to return to you, even your enhanced healing abilities can only work so quickly. And we won’t have you in anything but the best shape when you formally take up your position. You need to show them strength, Cassian, and showing up looking and feeling halfway to death won’t help you accomplish that. I don’t give a damn if they’re all bargain-sworn to serve you.”

“But…” Cassian was speechless at the thought of being bedridden for a week. That was practically an eternity. He’d gone out of his mind while waiting for his wings to heal, and he knew it wouldn’t do him any good to be cooped up for so long again.

“We’ve already made the arrangements. You’ll spend another night here so Madja can make sure you remain stable, but we’ve gotten permission to move you home tomorrow. Where…Nesta will keep up with your care…” Feyre blushed a bit as she managed to struggle through the last part.

“ _What?_ ” Cassian bit out a laugh, heart beginning to pound furiously. “Nesta doesn’t even tolerate me. She won’t sit in the same room as me or answer me when I ask her simple questions, and you expect her to want to wait on me hand-and-foot while I can’t move? I don’t know what you’ve all been smoking as you’ve been waiting with baited breath for my miraculous recovery, but can I have some?”

“Umm…it’s true. Your house only has the two bedrooms, and as Nesta is currently staying there, we’ve asked if she would do you the favor,” Feyre muttered, but she wouldn’t look Cassian in the eyes. She had to be hiding something.

“The infirmary needs all the extra beds we can help vacate. Don’t worry. We’ll still be taking an extended vacation in Windhaven and will make sure to come check in on you too, but this will be easiest for everyone.”

“And what if I refuse?” Cassian retorted, suddenly furious with them for making such a decision without his input. Nesta had surely only agreed because Feyre promised her money or clothing or _booze_ if she was truly desperate, and it disgusted him. He couldn’t stomach being this object of pity that forced her to be in his presence.

“Then I guess you’ll just starve and piss yourself,” Feyre bit back. “This is happening. End of discussion.” The ire in her eyes made even him, a male almost six centuries old, recoil a little. He understood the direct order that was being given to him, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Once, he would’ve been giddy at the idea of Nesta being forced to spend time with him, but he’d already been given that sentence — and the two of them had been trapped together for the past year in an unbearable silence.

Maybe afterwards, they’d finally let her leave though, and Cassian would be free to move on with his life, without the shadow of her presence lurking in his periphery constantly. They’d more or less settled the conflict they’d been sent to quell, and while there would still be much to do as he adapted to his new title, Nesta was no longer necessary to help him achieve his goals.

He’d ask it of Rhys and Feyre the moment he was crowned, as a customary gift. All he had to do was make it through this week without her biting his head off.

“Fine,” he grumbled, looking her dead in the eyes.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your beauty rest soon, but there’s somebody else who’d like to have a word with you,” Rhys said.

As his friends filed out of the room, the scent caught in his nostrils. Nesta. _Shit_.

She was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. The pain of learning about how they’d be spending the next week of their lives was still too fresh. He groaned and raised his arm above his head to cover his eyes and block out the view of the female who was most certainly about to walk through that door. His wound cried out in pain at the motion, but it was worth it. He didn’t want to formally acknowledge her presence.

“Cassian…” she murmured from the doorway. Her tone was softer, almost contemplative. The complete opposite of the one usually reserved wholly for him.

He laid there in silence.

“I know you’re awake.” Closer now, as if she’d sat down next to him in the chair Mor had vacated. And that scent. Up close now, he was assaulted by it. It still absolutely intoxicated him, much to his chagrin. He tried to tamp down those thoughts.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.” _Ha_. That was rich.

“Nesta, I’m sure Feyre sent you in here with instructions to act like you didn’t hate me because I almost just died, but you don’t have to keep up the facade anymore,” Cassian gritted out. “Let’s just make it through this next week, and then I’ll ask your sister if you can be free from this ridiculous assignment. You can move out — move wherever the hell you want. I don’t care.” Even as he spat the words, he could feel their untruth deep in his gut, but he was so endlessly tired. He couldn’t keep living like this.

“I volunteered, you know, for this next week,” Nesta whispered.

“Ha. Don’t give me that shit. I know it’s the last thing you’d ever sign up for. Feyre already told me they asked you. What’d they have to buy you to convince you to say yes?” Surely, she was just lying to him out of pity, or some other strange instinct that even Nesta couldn’t ignore when she saw him so wounded.

“Fine. Think whatever you want about me. I don’t care,” Nesta snapped back. _There she was._

“Not able to keep that mask on for very long were you?” he retorted. “Glad to see your true feelings are back out in the open.” This was the longest conversation they’d had in weeks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she gritted out and stalked out of the room.

Only then did Cassian uncover his eyes, and as he did, he realized how weary he still was. Almost getting cleaved in two really did take a lot out of him, but the past few minutes of conversation had temporarily heightened his senses.

As he began drifting off, he couldn’t help the niggling feeling in his gut that something was off about his conversation with Nesta. That maybe she had been slightly sincere and he had made a mistake in rebuffing her, but he was unable to consider it further as sleep dragged him under once again.


	5. Chapter 5

The fucking prick. Couldn’t he see that Nesta had actually tried to make an effort with him? Sure, she’d been distant even from herself for the past year and a half, but now that she was finally _feeling_ something again, no matter how small, Cassian wouldn’t even bother with her. **  
**

Gods, this next week was going to be a nightmare. She’d tried to hunt Feyre down to let her know how big of a mistake had been made, but her sister had made herself scarce, so all Nesta could do was go back to that miserable cabin and wait.

The night passed with the worry which had consumed her gradually morphing further into rage. As she sat in bed, trying to distract herself with a novel, she just found herself growing more and more irate. It didn’t help that all she had to read here were romances and Cassian’s wartime novels — neither of which could do anything to quell the spark that had been lit inside her last night.

She wished desperately to go back to the numbness. It had been the lowest point in her life — dwarfing even her disturbing encounter with Tomas Mandray years ago and the time she spent in the Cauldron — but she’d grown used to the darkness. Not having to feel anything at all had at least guarded her heart from the intense ache she felt right now — like it was simultaneously finding a home in her stomach and trying furiously to escape her rib cage and fly away.

Damn the bastard for going and almost dying. Things had been easier when she’d been able to shove that fear into the deep recesses of herself after the final battle. If she didn’t have to worry about anyone’s safety, didn’t have to be a protector, she was free to lose herself completely. 

That freedom had evaporated now though, and it was all Nesta could do not to run to him. The infuriating feeling in her gut tightening with every sharp contraction of breath as she realized she was sobbing once again.

Extinguishing her Fae light, Nesta rolled onto her side and let the wave of emotion sweep her away.

* * *

The next morning crawled by painfully slowly. Not knowing when Cassian would be returning home, she was jumping at the slightest noises outside and unable to truly relax. The previous night had been restless. She’d tossed and turned all night, unable to get comfortable, and even the strongest cup of coffee could do nothing to relieve her of the utter exhaustion that crying herself to sleep had inflicted.

Around midday, she heard the telltale sound of the key turning in the lock. Unwilling to look eager for him to return, she remained seated on the sofa, facing the rear of the house. Her eyes scanned the pages of her novel, yet her focus was fully on the sounds of the front door opening and the grunting of multiple male voices as she presumed Rhysand and Azriel were carrying him in.

“A little help, Nesta?” Rhys asked from the foyer.

As she slowly turned to face them, she realized that Rhys was angling his head to gesture at the closed door to Cassian’s bedroom.

Between his brothers, Cassian looked like he was doing his best to keep a straight face, even though the embarrassment of having been assisted through the camp in addition to the excruciating discomfort she knew he’d still be experiencing had caused his face to become flushed and sweaty. She tried to catch his gaze, but Cassian expertly avoided her. 

Nesta led the way into the comfortable master bedroom she’d been avoiding so well throughout her stay. She’d only peeked in once out of curiosity but generally respected his privacy considering that she wanted him to ignore her presence entirely.

After the Illyrians gently laid Cassian on his mattress, Rhysand turned back toward Nesta who was still frozen in the doorway. Azriel just crossed his arms and looked between the two as the High Lord began to feed her instructions.

A handful of mild foods Cassian liked. How to change his bandages. How often to administer his various medicinal brews. How to bathe him and help him use the restroom prior to Cassian regaining mobility. _Gods_ , she hadn’t been thinking of that when she volunteered, she realized at her cheeks flushed.

Once a day, a healing apprentice would be stopping by to check on his progress, and the Inner Circle themselves would be stopping in frequently to keep them company. 

Thank the Cauldron. A week hadn’t seemed like a long time before last night, but now it felt like it would be an eternity. At least when the others visited, she could step out of the house to clear her head.

Once Azriel had quizzed — _quizzed_ — her on the instructions, the two finally took their leave, needing to deal with the restless undercurrent going through the camp as its villagers waited to be informed of the results of the Rite, which had officially ended last night.

* * *

The weight of being truly alone together in this house finally hit her then. Barely able to form the words, she muttered, “Do you need anything?” while staring at the pattern of the wood which formed the floorboards. Who knew it could be so interesting?

Cassian just groaned, shaking his head and gesturing to the door. 

She wasn’t needed here. She wasn’t wanted here. She should just leave to save them both the awkwardness. At that, she padded out the back door of the house and lost herself in thought as she stared blankly at the forest surrounding them.

* * *

Nesta went back inside after a few hours to check on Cassian only to find him burning up with fever. Shit. She searched through the vials left in the kitchen until she found one that was supposed to help bring his temperature down.

Rushing back into the room, she attempted to shake him awake, taking care not to jostle his injuries too much.

“You need to swallow this. Now. _Please_.” The groggy warrior still just looked confused as he slowly began rousing, his mind obviously still foggy.

Not wanting to wait for him to fully come around, Nesta slowly guided him into a sitting position and tipped the vial to his mouth. Luckily, at that point, he got the message and parted his lips, ready to accept it.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she steadied the hand she’d just realized was trembling as she administered the potion and made sure he swallowed every drop. Their sudden closeness hit her like a brick. One hand remained on the small of his back from propping him up, and even through the thick bandaging, she could still feel the heat radiating off him, a small spark coursing up her arm at the contact. 

Her face was now only inches from his own, and now that Cassian seemed fully lucid, their gazes caught, and Nesta flushed as she quickly decided to busy herself with grabbing pillows to fully prop him up with. 

Oh, he was still pissed as hell at her. That hadn’t escaped her notice as the weight of his stare had fully enveloped her.

After settling him against the pillows in an unbearable silence, she shuffled her weight off the bed and turned to leave the room. Taking a deep breath, she made sure to walk out casually, measuredly, doing her best to not let him know how much of an effect he was having on her.

She thought he might’ve mumbled something once she was almost out of earshot, but the roaring in her head was so incredibly overpowering that whatever it was got lost in the void. And she had no intention of inquiring further as she went to go prepare supper.


	6. Chapter 6

Good. Maybe she hadn’t actually heard him in that moment of weakness where his resolve had slipped. Cassian had almost called Nesta back into the room. What he’d planned on saying to her was still beyond him. **  
**

At least she was giving him some space and actually seemed sober for once. True, he’d only been home for half the day, but he hadn’t smelled it on her when she’d been practically on top of him a few minutes ago. For months now, the scent had always faintly clung to her like a thin film lying on top of the familiar, intoxicating scent of Nesta. It had obscured the woman he’d fallen in love with years ago, warping her beyond recognition.

Her having been sober for a few days — maybe the whole week he’d been gone — didn’t change anything though. Perhaps Nesta had begun to come around, but she’d been so completely broken, and had broken him so thoroughly, that one small, kind act wasn’t going to suddenly repair the bridge she’d been burning all year.

He’d tried. The close living quarters had given him more opportunities than he’d had in Velaris to engage her, and he’d tried everything from flirting with her to get a rise out of her to attempting to include her in important decisions to give her a sense of purpose. And all he’d gotten when he’d looked in her eyes was a vast, unyielding emptiness.

Whenever she did speak to him, it was purely out of necessity and abundantly clear that she thought nothing could be more wasteful of her time than giving him her attentions.

Even though she was hopefully unaware of the fact, he had indeed noticed that she would converse with Emerie and even appeared to open up to her gradually, and her drinking frequency had diminished somewhat.

But that just made her continued dismissal of Cassian even more difficult to forgive.

* * *

An hour later, she returned with a steaming bowl of chicken stew. It smelled heavenly, though his stomach was still roiling, and he doubted he’d be able to keep much if any of it down. Madja had only attempted feeding him twice, and both times, he’d stomached only a few spoonfuls of the broth before his body rejected it.

She tentatively set the tray, which also contained another vial of a ghastly smelling liquid which he knew from experience would significantly dull the pain.

“Thanks,” he grunted, fully taking in her appearance for the first time since he’d returned. She looked…broken, for lack of a better word. Not in the icy way she had been for as long as he could remember, but vulnerable. Her hair was loosely tied back, but more out of necessity than because she’d decided to intricately style it. Her clothes were loose-fitting and comfortable, unlike the dresses she tended to prefer whenever she wasn’t required to wear leathers due to training. And her face — it was devastated. There was a sadness in her eyes which he’d never once witnessed, and her eyes darted anywhere but on him, like she was still acclimating to her surroundings but also couldn’t bear to face him.

She just nodded meekly and shuffled across the house to her bedroom.

* * *

Cassian called her back in a while later to remove the tray. Thankfully the medicine vial was drained, and though he didn’t seem to have eaten much of the soup, he wasn’t complaining about needing to void himself. Well, at least not because of the meal.

After an awkward struggle with the bedpan, as Nesta couldn’t assist a fully immobile Cassian to the bathing room, she went to grab the final dose of medicine he was supposed to take tonight. It was another fever reducer that was also meant to assist him with sleeping through the night.

Now she just had to figure out her sleeping arrangements for the night. With any luck, the medicines would do their jobs, but she’d been warned that she still needed to be on alert for any immediate needs that might arise. Not to mention the fact that she’d already had to awaken him once today when he was burning up and desperately needed another draught.

After handing him the vial, she went to fetch a small sleeping roll out of the hall closet. These were mostly used if they ever needed to go on extended trip into the mountains, and were mildly uncomfortable to sleep on, but it would have to do. Her only other option in the room was a plush chair which would be too awkward to sleep in, and with her bedroom positioned on the opposite side of the house, it was the best way for her to hear if he was having a fit. It also ensured her sleep wouldn’t be too deep, as she’d probably toss and turn a lot while trying to get comfortable. So be it.

“No.” It was the most firm tone of voice she’d heard from him since his arrival. His eyes were fixed on the bedroll.

“It’s not up for discussion. You know I have to keep an eye on you, and this is the easiest way for me to do that.” Nesta kept her voice level, not wanting to get into it with him right now. This wasn’t even something they should be arguing over, and judging by the empty vial now sitting on his nightstand, all she needed to do was wait a few minutes before it was a non-issue anyways.

She extinguished the lamps in the room as soon as she got under the thin blanket. She tried to get comfortable, with little luck. She’d have to go buy a small mattress tomorrow in town or move one of the couches in here. She wouldn’t be taking any chances at least until Cassian was more able to fend for himself.

“Goodnight, Cassian,” she whispered into the void, unsure why she did it. He’d been contrary and downright rude to her for the past two days, yet still, she couldn’t contain the words that had been on the tip of her tongue.

“G’night, Nessssta…” Cassian murmured in a stupor a few moments later. Even though it was probably just the drugs lowering his inhibitions, Nesta couldn’t help the faint smile that crept over her lips as all the energy she’d expended that day caught up with her, and she too found slumber easily.


	7. Chapter 7

The night passed with little incident. At one point Nesta needed to shake Cassian awake again as she awoke to the noise of him thrashing around and sweaty with fever, but after helping him down another draught and changing his sheets, she was able to find a few hours of her own sleep before awakening at the crack of dawn. **  
**

Gods, she really needed more comfortable sleeping arrangements, she thought to herself as she brewed the strongest coffee she could muster but still struggled to stay awake as she cooked breakfast. For her, some eggs with sausage, but for Cassian, luckily, she just needed to reheat some stew from last night. She had some fairly strict orders about what she was allowed to serve him, which worked just fine for her. It made her job easier.

Thankfully, he’d managed to keep the meager amount he’d swallowed last night down, but she knew she’d have to force him to eat more today and drink more fluids. His healing would only be slower if he continued to deprive himself of the essentials.

As she carried the tray laden with stew and a glass of cold water on it into the bedroom, she was surprised to find Cassian already awake. He was staring at the bed roll on the floor with a pained expression, and Nesta was unsure if it was at the now-sober realization that she had indeed spent the night here or if he coincidentally needed a refresher for the pain draught.

He quickly glanced up at her as she entered, and held her gaze as she helped to prop him with some pillows and then set the tray on his lap. 

“Is there anything else I can get you right now? I know it’s a little early for it, but I can grab some more pain medication from the kitchen. Or you can just wait until lunchtime and take it with the healing tonic. Whatever you want really.”

Why the hell was she babbling so much? She just needed to shut the hell up and go grab another cup of coffee. It was promising to be a long day already, full of trying to skirt around the unspoken issues between them as they were stuck together all day long. Six more days.

Cursing herself for the awkwardness, she turned to leave when he still hadn’t responded for a few moments, but he gently caught her wrist, wincing a bit at the motion, and Nesta spun back around.

Cassian awkwardly point toward his head and shallowly bit out, “My hair is in my face, and it’s kind of hard to eat. He mimicked the fact that he couldn’t really reach much farther than his mouth and slowly at that. Right. And after the thrashing of last night and the fact that he hadn’t bathed, it was a tangled mess around his head.

Nesta nodded and quickly went to go fetch some supplies. She came back with her hairbrush and a leather tie and got to work. Kneeling next to him on the bed, she gently coaxed the snarls free on one side of him and then the moved to the other, doing her best not to pull too hard or have to run her own fingers through it too much. The small shivers she felt anytime her hands made contact with his scalp were unnerving her, and she carefully avoided Cassian’s gaze, staring at the brush in front of her, not brave enough to want to find out if she had a similar effect on him.

After a few minutes of detangling, she neatly tied his hair back with the piece of leather and made her way back to the kitchen to eat her own breakfast without looking back or giving him a moment to respond.

* * *

By midday, the urge to crack open a bottle of wine was grating on Nesta. She had a few stashed away but knew she’d never live it down if Feyre showed up to find her drunk today. Maybe that would get her out of this responsibility though and she could just leave Windhaven… She was still warring with herself internally when a loud knock sounded at the door.

Thank the Mother.

Feyre and Azriel filed in followed by one of the town healers. Nesta gave them each a curt nod, told them Cassian was definitely still alive, and bolted out the front door. Let them have their privacy. She sure as hell needed some of her own right now.

She wandered aimlessly through Windhaven, having absolutely no clue where she was headed. It had been so important to her to get _out_ that she hadn’t really considered what she would do with her free time. Ideally she would be alone at home with a good book and a glass of wine, but that wasn’t an option right now, and in her haste, she hadn’t thought to bring a book out with her.

After wandering the perimeter of the camp enough times that on any other day, she thought she might truly go insane, she found herself stumbling into Emerie’s shop.

The bell above the door emitted a soft tinkling noise, and Emerie glanced up from the book she always had stashed underneath the counter for slow days.

“You look…” Emerie clearly was trying to gauge Nesta’s mood, “…like absolute shit,” she laughed and gestured for Nesta to join her behind the counter.

“I’ve been trapped in that cabin all day, and honestly, I thought I was going to explode if I had to stay there a second longer,” Nesta admitted. “I don’t know why I offered to help him. It was a moment of weakness, and…” She was at a loss for words.

“What exactly happened?” Emerie nudged her for more information. “One day we’re all in camp waiting to see the results of the Rite, and the next pretty much all of the Rhysand’s Inner Circle has descended into town and are acting like they’ve got sticks shoved all the way up their asses.”

“Cassian made it to the peak of Ramiel. That’s all I know, but he almost died in the attempt. I assume they’re doing damage control while they wait for him to come back up to speed and he is able to attend his own coronation, but it could be days from now…at least a week? I don’t know.” Nesta fought back the tears that were threatening to burst out of her as she finally said the words she’d been thinking aloud, “I’m just here until he recovers. After that, I’ll probably go find another camp to live in.” The words were barely a whisper.

“ _What?_ ” Emerie snapped back at her.

“I’ve promised to stay and help until he’s able to care for himself, but I think it’s time for me to move on from here. He’s about to hold a significant amount of power over me, and it’s clear that I’m unwelcome. I don’t want to go back to Velaris, but I can’t stay here either.”

Emerie was silent for a minute, before flatly saying, “You could try out Stormridge.” Nesta was grateful her friend had abstained from any other scathing commentary.

“What’s that?” Nesta asked, feeling hopeful for the first time all week.

“It’s another camp which isn’t terribly far from here, a few towns over to the east. You’d still be able to visit me occasionally, and I hear it’s going through some interesting changes as well. The bastard son of their lord was the only other contestant to make it to the summit. Some say he actually saved Cassian’s life. It’s all rumors at this point, but he’s likely to gain a position of power soon if it’s all true, and he seems like a good kid. He flies over here daily now, supposedly checking on how Cassian is doing,” she responded.

Nesta mulled it over, not liking how close this person supposedly was to Cassian but realizing that if he indeed end up leading this other camp, it still would be better than any of the other misogynistic lords she would’ve had to have put up with elsewhere.

“Thanks,” she said, offering Emerie a small smile and getting up to leave. She had a lot more to think about now and only a short while left before she knew she would have to relieve her houseguests.

“But I swear on the Cauldron, if you disappear without a trace, Nesta Archeron, I will hunt you down and haunt the shit out of you,” Emerie yelled at her as she was stepping through the door. With a laugh, Nesta turned and gave her a vulgar gesture before beginning the arduous walk back to the cabin.

* * *

Nesta was slowly, silently walking up to the house when she heard the voices pouring out of the open window. She froze in her tracks, noting that she was downwind of the cabin so they likely hadn’t sensed her approach.

“No, I don’t want to move somewhere larger. I like this cabin just fine, and besides, this is the camp I grew up in…for the most part.” Cassian.

“But don’t you want to start over somewhere new? I thought after everything these people had put you through and the last year you’ve spent in this house, you’d be amenable to us building you some sort of nicer estate.” Feyre.

“No, this is my home, and this bullshit isn’t going to change that.” Cassian.

“What are you going to do about Nesta?” Feyre.

“What do you mean what am _I_ going to do about Nesta? What are _you_ going to do about Nesta? What is _Nesta_ going to do with herself?” Cassian.

“Cassian.” Feyre’s tone could be considered a warning. “I know it’s been a rough year or two, but she did volunteer to stay and help you. And she lives here too.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times already. Just because you know I’ve had feelings for Nesta in the past doesn’t mean I can live like this anymore. You’ve left me out here with her for _over a year_ , Feyre. I’ve tried. I did everything I could think of to pull her out of that place she’s been trapped in in her head for _months_. Eventually, I just had to get used to pretending that I live alone. She’s been a ghost. I can’t just ignore her anymore, but I also can’t keep doing this.”

“ _Cassian_.” Azriel. At that, the Shadowsinger quickly glanced out the window, catching Nesta’s gaze for a moment before averting it and continuing the conversation as if he hadn’t just been informed that she had heard a decent amount of the conversation happening in that room.

As she backed down the street again to pretend to find something to do for the next thirty minutes before innocently making her way back home, she hoped his shadows hadn’t also been able to sense how her already-fractured heart had somehow broken on those last words.


	8. Chapter 8

Nesta had been gone for hours. She’d left without a goodbye, as if she couldn’t be out of his presence quickly enough. The thought grated on him as he had to struggle through the healer re-inspecting his wounds — about as excruciating as it sounded given the fact that they still hadn’t fully sealed, despite the stitching holding them together. Fuck, this was worse than anything he’d dealt with in centuries. **  
**

Damn the Illyrians for stifling his magic during the Rite. Though he’d managed to have them put one siphon back on today without incident, the injury was keeping his magic from fully recovering quickly, and in turn, the lack of magic was rendering him practically mortal as far as the healing-process was concerned — or at least what he thought that experience might be like.

Luckily, Az had helped the healer bathe him so that he wouldn’t have to go through the mortifying experience of having to plead with Nesta to do it. He’d wanted a bath last night after he’d gotten home but couldn’t find it in himself to ask that of her. 

Once, he might’ve craved the thought of her hands having to roam his body, teasing her with the fact that she needed to care for him in his time of need, had their relationship remained one where they could banter back and forth, but she’d cut him out of her life completely, and now he had to stop himself from reliving the old fantasy before those emotions overwhelmed him again.

As the afternoon wore on, he grew increasingly frustrated by her absence. She really did intend to spend every possible moment where somebody else was visiting him elsewhere, didn’t she? This was still a cage for both of them, and he needed to get her out.

After a particularly infuriating conversation with his friends, in which he had almost started yelling at them as they seemingly tried to coddle him into doing what Feyre wanted, he got her to agree to consider taking Nesta back to Velaris with them when their stay was over. It was as good as he was probably going to get from her right now so he calmed down and pretended he needed a nap to get them to leave his bedside.

He continued the ruse even once he heard Nesta return and knew the two would probably be leaving soon. Good. He was still seething at how everybody presumed to know what was right for him right now when he just wanted a little peace and quiet before the chaos of stepping into his new role overwhelmed him.

It was most difficult to maintain his composure as he heard Azriel dragging a couch in and placing it at the far side of the room. It meant Nesta was absolutely serious last night about her promise to keep an eye on him at night. Normally, this wouldn’t have bugged him, but gods, being so close to her, having her scent in his nose all night —it was driving him insane. 

It was difficult to keep up the walls he’d had to build this past year to protect his heart from her. When he’d awoken in a daze this morning, not fully processing _why_ exactly he felt so lovesick for a minute, he’d had to scold himself for letting her do this — for letting it affect him so thoroughly. 

He’d dammed off that river coursing through his bloodstream that had incessantly drowned him in her being — always singing “ _Nesta, Nesta, Nesta_ ” — and couldn’t afford to undo all that progress. He’d just keep patching these cracks until this week was over.

The door shut behind them, and as his rage subsided and exhaustion took him, he found himself falling unconscious not long after.

  


* * *

  


Cassian awoke to the smell of another stew brewing on the stove, his mouth watering. 

This was the first time he’d actually been hungry since the Rite was over, and he couldn’t help feeling like that was a good sign. Perhaps he’d be back on his feet sooner than they thought. Although with his magic intact, he probably would’ve been feeling hungry on the day he woke up, so he had no idea how it translated to this unfamiliar situation.

Nesta was brutally efficient with her meal delivery service. In the door. Prop him up. Tray on his lap. Disappear. 

Fuck. She was even more closed off than she’d been this morning. For a moment he’d thought he’d seen the old Nesta peeking through, especially as she’d brushed his hair back for him. 

Every time her skin accidentally brushed up against his scalp, he couldn’t help the gooseflesh which emerged on his skin. It might’ve been why all his old feelings were flooding back in, but her current demeanor was exactly like the mask she’d been wearing all this past year, so Cassian felt vindicated in the decisions he’d made earlier in the day.

The rest of the evening passed similarly, with Nesta silently and efficiently anticipating and taking care of his needs without another syllable being uttered between them.

After she had bathed and set up the couch she’d now be sleeping on, she came into the bedroom with his nightly tonic, looking utterly exhausted. She handed it to him, her hand lingering for a split second too long as he took it within his own and downed the contents.

She crept over to the couch and extinguished the lights before murmuring, “Goodnight, Cassian.” It was almost as if she couldn’t bear to have him see her face as she uttered the words.

He thought long and hard about if he should even respond to her before finally muttering, “Goodnight, Nesta,” and shutting his eyes, praying the potion would sweep him away before he could fully consider the repercussions of letting that small sentiment into his heart.

  


* * *

_  
_

_“The hellcat now, if you’ll be so kind,” that voice he’d hated for centuries called out. But where was Nesta? He couldn’t see her, couldn’t feel her as he fought the agonizing pain tearing through his body._

_His wings. His wings were shredded. No, his body was shredded. And he forced his eyes to open, unable to focus them as he saw a slender form being dragged through a pool of blood. She fought back valiantly, but couldn’t fend her captors off. “Nesta…” He had to crawl to her. He’d promised he’d protect her._

_His eyes snapped shut again. No. He couldn’t afford to let them put her in the Cauldron. She would never be the same once she went in. She would mourn the human part of her she lost. She would despise him for not keeping his promise. As his eyes fluttered back open but couldn’t take in their surroundings, he felt her be shoved under._

_Please. No. He was helpless and still unable to move as he waited. Minutes went by. Hours. She wasn’t coming back up. He’d lost her._

_“Nesta. Nesta!” he tried to scream, but his voice couldn’t make any sound. “Nesta–”_

_  
_

* * *

  


Nesta had tried everything. 

Minutes before, she’d been awoken to the sound of Cassian thrashing and screaming in his sleep. Feeling his forehead, she realized that this wasn’t the result of a fever, just a nightmare. But the screaming… Between the utterly incoherent noises he’d been making, she’d heard one word. Over and over. Her name. 

Still unable to see in the pitch black, she furiously began yelling his name, trying to bring him back to her. When that didn’t work, she began slapping his face, not willing to move lower on his body, fearing harming him more than helping his escape from his torment.

She lit a small lamp and continued the assault on his senses. Begging him to wake up. Pleading with him. Promising anything if he’d just open his eyes.

Just as she was losing hope and seriously considering running to find help, his eyes shot open, taking in the room but not seeing her.

“ _Nesta!_ ” His voice was hoarse from all the screaming, but she could hear the sheer panic still present in it as he frantically kept scanning the room, not realizing that he’d been freed from whatever mental prison had held his mind.

“Cassian,” she whispered. “Cassian, I’m right here.” Sensing him begin to elucidate, she placed his closest hand on her heart, letting him feel it beating, frenetic though it was right now. Wherever he’d been, she had a feeling that she’d been suffering, perhaps had even died as he watched.

Blinking slowly, he finally seemed to recognize her. “Nesta…” his voice trailed off as she recognized the flush creeping onto his cheeks.

“It was just a nightmare. They happen to all of us.” She hoped perhaps from the deepest recesses of her mind that he’d recognize the familiarity in her words. Realize what she meant. That she’d had them before too. About him.

His hand was still placed atop her thundering heart as they both seemed to realize it, but he didn’t withdraw. He was shaking, and she had a feeling the physical contact was the only thing anchoring him to the here and now.

Nesta remained frozen as they sat in silence for minutes, until she noticed that the trembling had stopped, and Cassian had begun to finally drift back off, his breathing steadying. It took every ounce of her strength to remove the hand from her chest, noting that her own beating heart hadn’t slowed, and begin to shuffle off the bed and back to her couch.

The second she gently laid his hand on the bed, having hoped not to wake him in the act, it grabbed her own. She sat awkwardly, waiting for the moment to pass, for the calloused hand to release her own so she could retreat, but it never let up.

Feeling exhaustion take hold of her again, Nesta carefully laid down in the small space between Cassian and the edge of the mattress as she too fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Cassian arose late in the morning to a sharp pain in his abdomen and utter confusion. His first thought was at how unusually late he’d slept. It must’ve been the sleeping tonic because he hadn’t noticed the pain medication wearing off, but Nesta had always been punctual with administering it to him. Unless…  


A strong, too-familiar scent hit him a moment later as he tried to lift his head, cringing at the pain as his core muscles tightened, and found her unconscious next to him. She was curled in a ball, as if she had tried her hardest throughout the night not to lie against him, failing due to the cramped amount of space she occupied on the edge of the mattress, but… She was holding his hand. And Cassian was surprised to realize that he had been holding hers back.

Shit. The nightmare. He hadn’t meant to wake her. At the beginning of their stay in Illyria, he’d done his best to keep them as quiet as possible, so as not to alert her to their presence. He didn’t want to have to explain to her that every time he closed his eyes, he saw her getting thrown into the Cauldron or shielding him with her body on the battlefield or sometimes even just drinking herself to death. But for the past few months, the nightly terrors had been fewer and farther between.

He tried to recall what had happened between them last night, but came up empty other than her startling him out of the nightmare and placing his hand on her chest. Then…nothing.

Cassian desperately needed to clear his head, but there was nowhere for him to go in this state. He gently untangled their fingers and placed his own hands on his chest, safely out of range of snatching that supple, tempting hand right back. As he laid his head back down, he craned his neck so he could still see her sleeping form out of the corner of his eye. She looked so peaceful — for Nesta.

Cassian hadn’t realized how unusual it was for Nesta to also sleep this late until now. When she wasn’t completely hungover, she usually got up and out of the house early to train or go on a walk — or avoid him probably.

As she began to stir next to him, Cassian quickly shut his eyes and attempted to feign sleep — hoping she wouldn’t realize the deception and would quickly remove herself.

* * *

Damn, this couch was so much softer than she remembered. And the back cushion was…moving. Up and down. And, oh gods, that was Cassian behind her, and she’d fallen asleep in his bed after the nightmare incident.  


As carefully as she could, she scooted off the bed, trying her hardest not to disturb him, though she’d have to wake him soon to take more pain medication. When she glanced back behind her, as she tiptoed out, she noticed his breathing hitch a bit. _Was he awake?_ She just needed some coffee to clear her head because she was probably just imagining things.

* * *

Today’s breakfast only came with a piece of plain toast, in addition to some broth, but Nesta couldn’t help but notice that Cassian almost smiled a bit as he saw it. He also completely devoured it, which was a first for him this week. Hopefully, she’d be able to veer from the bland staples soon and stop having to prepare two different meals.

Around what would be lunchtime, they got their next round of visitors. This time it was Rhysand and Mor, accompanied by another healer. Once again, Nesta didn’t give them much more than a nod of acknowledgment before slipping out the door. She had a mission today — and all the walking would help her shake off the after-effects of what had occurred between herself and Cassian last night. She couldn’t let herself focus on how comfortable she’d felt when she’d awoken right now.

True to Emerie’s word, it didn’t take Nesta long to track down the young Illyrian male whose name she learned was Petros. He had been frequenting the largest tavern in Windhaven every afternoon while he waited around for news of his friend.

Nesta sat down at the table and promptly ordered them a round of drinks, hers only a water though. No need to tempt herself, even if the ale here was piss-poor. She wasn’t sure she could stop once she’d started. Hoping the beverage would loosen up the boy, she began prying him with questions, soon learning that his own backstory was tragic like Cassian’s.

He was also bastard-born though he knew his father — which made his life even more of a living hell as his father had made sure Petros had no companions growing up, nobody to confide in. After the outcome of the Blood Rite though, he was being celebrated in Stormridge. His father’s eldest pure-blooded son had perished in the Rite, and Petros had come out looking like the logical choice to the rest of the village as his father’s heir.

Despite the traditional mourning period they were observing, his father had been practically forced to recognize him as a legitimate son, especially considering his connection to the now-King. The entire experience still seemed surreal to the boy.

“So that’s it? You’re a lordling now?” she inquired after hearing his story.

“Seems that way. Still can’t believe it, but I’m eager to start making some changes and having some power for once in my miserable life,” he replied. There wasn’t a hint of any malice on his face, just pure ambition, as if he couldn’t wait to prove himself.

“Would you be desiring a little assistance perhaps? Right now I’m looking to get away from this place. I need a little change of scenery, and from what I’ve heard, Stormridge might be the best camp for me to start over in,” she admitted.

“I thought you were helping lead the reform here in Windhaven. Wouldn’t you be more useful being in the same city as King Cassian?”

“Not likely. I’m officially stepping down at the end of the week and need to go clear my head.” Nesta stared at the table, wishing she’d opted for the mug of ale now. This was more difficult to talk about than she’d thought, and after last night she had her doubts about leaving. But she really needed to make other arrangements. She wasn’t eager to stay any longer than she had to or gods-forbid move back to Velaris.

“Well, I’d be honored. I’m sure we could use a strong female presence in Stormridge, even if you decide you don’t want to be involved in political matters,” Petros smiled at her.

That was all she needed to hear from him. Finally, she had made a decision for herself, had taken control of her own future.

“Do you want to see him?” Nesta asked, and the kid’s face lit up. “Come on. He’s probably still awake right now.”

Nesta led the way back to the Cabin, Petros in tow. As they approached, she could tell Rhys and Mor were still inside, but she strode in as if she owned the place, or at least as if it were just as much her home.

She had barely even had a chance to make introductions before Petros had rushed into Cassian’s room, and the two were chatting like they were old friends, not like they’d spent one day on the brink of death together. Cassian’s ability to be so personable with others right off the bat still astounded Nesta. She’d never been good at it herself, though she had been fairly sure he’d appreciated the challenge of trying to win her over back when they’d first met.

Rhysand and Mor exited the room to give the two some privacy, and the three of them sat in an awkward silence before the others decided that maybe they’d spent enough time here for the day and should get going.

Nesta watched them walk toward the door before Rhysand came back to her and said softly enough that it wouldn’t be detectable in the other room, “Thank you. For bringing the kid today. I got the impression that Cassian is bored out of his damn mind in there, and as much as I know he loves my fabulous company, that made him grin wider than I’d seen in a long time.”

Nesta just nodded, any words she could’ve formed stuck in her throat. Rhysand’s gratitude had sounded a little forced. They had never had a comfortable relationship, but she could tell the words were genuine.

After they left, Petros stuck around chatting and joking with Cassian until the sun began to set before leaving, promising to be back in touch with Nesta by the end of the week.

As she entered the room to hand Cassian his dinner and the next dosage of his pain medication, she noticed that he did in fact seem in better spirits than she’d seen in months. She felt around for the words to say to him, but came up short and was about to leave when he gently grabbed her wrist.

“Petros mentioned that you’re moving to Stormridge at the end of the week.” Nesta couldn’t place the emotion she saw in his eyes.

Shrugging off his grip, she simply replied, “I’ll stay around for as long as you need — until you’re back on your feet, but I think we both agree that it’s best if I’m gone by the time this blows over. I didn’t want to go back to Velaris so I made my own arrangements.” She shrugged. 

His gaze turned stony as he murmured, “Yeah. Good. That’s great.”

If Nesta hadn’t overheard with her own ears the fact that he was sick of having her around just yesterday, she might’ve mistaken it for some sort of ire at the news of her departure, but she still had her own issues to work out and couldn’t linger on what might be going through Cassian’s head. She needed to process the fact that her life was no longer this endless pit of numbness and try to figure out her place in the world again. And that didn’t involve being weighed down by her past, especially if her past didn’t want to be weighed down by _her_.

“I’ll be back in a bit to help you get ready for bed,” she said as steadily as she could before retreating to her own room where she flopped onto the bed. 

She was making the correct decision, right? The past year had been insufferable, but today had been…tolerable to say the least. Maybe he could help her heal her wounds and sort through the myriad issues she knew she still had, but she knew that’d be asking too much of him right now.

Frustratedly, she grabbed a fresh book off the pile next to her bed and tore through it for the next few hours, letting the story take her away to a place where her own problems no longer mattered.

* * *

Nesta yawned as she closed the book. She probably should’ve put it down earlier, but she’d been so absorbed in the story that she hadn’t noticed the time passing and how late it had gotten.

She tiptoed over to Cassian’s room only to find him completely passed out. He seemed to have scooted over in his bed, uncentering himself, so that he could set the empty tray next to him and still have enough room to sprawl out closer to the far wall. Nesta took the tray back to the kitchen to do the dishes before getting ready for bed herself.

As she crept back into the room, she noticed him stirring somewhat. It didn’t look like it was anything on par with the nightmare she’d awoken him from last night, but he was still restless. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed unsure whether to just leave him to whatever dream it was or try to awaken him like last night.

Nesta settled for placing her hand on his chest, making sure it was still clear of the bandage around his abdomen. Almost instantly the stirring stopped, and she sat frozen like she had the previous night, trying to figure out her next move before resigning herself to just staying for awhile.

She’d get better sleep anyway if he wasn’t tossing and turning and making noise all night, so she carefully slipped under the covers and turned to face him, laying her hand on his heart again. The steadying rhythm calmed her, and it was only as she lay in the dark, trying to match the rhythm with her own that she realized that she actually had room to spread out tonight — as if the tray weren’t the only thing Cassian had been making room in the bed for this evening.


	10. Chapter 10

Fortunately, Nesta awoke before Cassian, at the crack of dawn, and she slipped from the room hoping to get some alone time before having to face him again today. **  
**

After she finished her cup of coffee though, she was struck with an idea. Yesterday, Rhysand had remarked at how bored Cassian had been, so Nesta went and grabbed the novel she’d finished last night, and crept back into his room.

She smoothed the covers a bit and laid it next to him on the bed, right where she’d been fallen asleep the previous evening. The book had been fantastic, with everything she loved in a novel — fanciful themes which distracted from reality, great world-building, and a steamy romance. She smiled to herself as she went to go prepare breakfast for both of them, hoping he might find some companionship in the story as well.

Nesta dithered around the kitchen, in no hurry to finish her cooking. She’d heard him shuffling around in the room, but he hadn’t called for her yet, so she gave him a little more time to enjoy her present before interrupting him for a breakfast break.

* * *

“This yours?” He didn’t even look up from the page as she entered the room. He was only a few chapters in, but apparently he already couldn’t tear himself away. _Good_ , she thought as a smile crept onto her face. She’d felt the same way last night.

“Whose else would it be? Unless…you’ve been squirreling this away.” Her eyebrows shot up as she gave him a pointed look.

“Touché. But it’s incredible. I haven’t had time to just sit and read — haven’t made time for it in forever.” She snatched the book out of his hands, with much protest as she set the tray down in his lap.

“Breakfast and pain medicine. Then you may have this masterpiece back.” She held it high over his head and then took a few steps back.

He began shoveling food into his face and asked, “Do you have any more of those?” between bites.

“Technically this is the first in a series. I think I’ve got the second one already, but I’ll have to go ask Emerie for the rest. And besides, I haven’t even read that one yet. You can’t have it until I’m done.

“Then you better hurry up because I’m going to be needing it soon,” he smirked at her. The reaction was so unexpected that it caught her off guard.

“F-fine,” she stuttered, struggling to leave some amount of levity in her voice, hoping he couldn’t tell how startled she was. “I’ll start it right away and try to pick up the other copies in town today.”

Grabbing her own breakfast and the sequel, she hurried back into his bedroom and perched herself on the couch, sinking into the much-anticipated story.

* * *

A knock on the door a few hours later shook them both out of their trances, having temporarily forgotten that they’d have company today, as always. Nesta answered to find only Feyre and the healer today. The two came inside claiming they were in a bit of a hurry this afternoon. Nesta assured them that it was fine, and she’d run her errand as quickly as possible.

Shooting out the door, she rushed to Emerie’s shop, panting by the time she got there.

“I need…more books…” she huffed out. Emerie just looked at her as if she were from another dimension and waited for Nesta to catch her breath and continue her request.

“That book series you lent me last week, I only got my hands on the first two but I’m almost done already. There are more, right?” Leaning on the counter, she collected herself — though her nerves were still completely frazzled from her interaction with Cassian this morning.

“Here are the next three, but be warned that the one after those hasn’t come out yet. You may want to pace yourself if you’re so in love with these books.” Emerie flashed her a knowing smile, shoving the three well-read books into Nesta’s arms.

“Also I heard that you’re moving. You’re actually doing it,” she mumbled.

“Did you think I wasn’t dead serious?” Nesta retorted.

“I just thought maybe things were improving here. That’s all. I saw your face through the window before you tried to mask it from me. You actually looked like you weren’t sad or empty for once.”

“Even if they are, I’m not sure I’ll still want to live here in a few days. There’s a lot of baggage in that cabin, and I think it’ll be good for me to get a change of scenery regardless.” She sighed and thanked Emerie once again for the books, promised to return them as soon as possible, and hauled ass back to the cabin.

When she opened the front door, she found Feyre on the couch with the bedroom door closed. Apparently the healer was changing the bandages and bathing him, which Feyre had no desire to be a part of considering no assistance was required today. The thought suddenly burned the tips of Nesta’s ears even though she’d seen him naked plenty of times this week — she’d been trying to avert her gaze as much as possible though.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Feyre blurted from her seat. What was with everyone asking her about this choice today? Why were they all acting like it affected them significantly? It was her life, and as long as she could afford her rent, it should make no difference to them where she chose to live. She’d been saving her meager allowance up for the past year and could comfortably rent out a small cabin for awhile, at least until she figured her own problems out or found a job in Stormridge.

“More than anything.” The words were hard to force herself to say. They weren’t strictly true, but it was the right decision dammit. She only hoped her sister couldn’t pick up on the small fib and quickly checked to make sure her mental shields were up.

“You know you’re welcome to come back to Velaris, right? The townhouse is empty now, and you could use it for free. Or we could work something out with a nice new apartment —”

Nesta stopped her sister with an icy look before letting it soften a bit. “I’m not interested in going back. I’ve found a home here in Illyria. I just need some space and some more experiences in another camp. That’s all. Please. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She shut her eyes, just trying to block the conversation out. She could feel her control beginning to slip, and all she wanted was to maintain her equilibrium.

Just then, the healer finished up and gathered her supplies to leave. Feyre took this as a sign to make her exit as well. She slipped into the bedroom for a minute to give him a big hug before strolling out to do Cauldron knew what had her in such a hurry today.

Nesta sank to a crouch on the floor, placing her head between her knees, suddenly doubting every decision she’d made lately. Should she stay? Should she have kept away from Cassian during his recovery to make the parting easier on both of them? Somehow, she hadn’t anticipated how difficult this week would be when she signed up for it. 

“Nesta?” Cassian’s voice was tentative as it floated out from the bedroom.

Wiping at her eyes just in case any tears had escaped, she got up and went and sat on the edge of his bed, books in tow. “Got the rest of them. At least all the ones that have been published already.” She forced a smile to her lips, though it likely didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m in need of the next one. Pony up.” Of course this was only about the books. The small part of her that thought he might notice her inner turmoil deflated a bit.

“Wait your turn, you mongrel. I’m almost done, and then I can go cook us some supper.” Her eyes slid over his form as she sat on her couch, and just then she noticed…

“Your wound has sealed up,” she murmured. Indeed the flesh was still pink and puffy, but he was no longer wearing the bandage around his middle from the past few days.

“More or less on the outside,” he replied. “Though on the inside I’m still a bit of a mess. Still burns like hell. But I’ve got a bit more of my magic back today.” He held up both hands to show that they’d tested out two siphons today.

“That’s great. Really.” Nesta pasted another, less-false smile on her face before burying herself in the book, well aware that he had nothing better to do than watch her every move. The thought was so distracting that it took her twice as long to finish the last few chapters as it normally would have. Every once in awhile, she’d glance up to find him staring directly at her, an unidentifiable expression on his face.

Once she finished, she tossed it across the room to him and informed him that supper would be ready soon before taking a much-needed retreat to the kitchen.

When she returned with his tray, she brought one of her own. The quicker to get back into the series. As she sat his tray down and made to go take hers across the room to her little nest, Cassian motioned her back.

Nesta tentatively took a seat on the edge of the bed, food forgotten as she waited for whatever he was going to say to her. He probably had something to scold her about or —

“Why?” The word was choked out, and his hazel eyes were full of dread.

“I dont…understand.”

“ _Why?_ ” His eyes hardened, knuckles white as he gripped the tray on his lap. “Why now?”

Oh.

“I just…”

“Where did you go?”

Nesta sighed. “Nowhere. I was nowhere.”

“Why couldn’t you just stay with me? After all we went through? I know we were never officially anything to each other, but you have to admit that there was something between us. And then — and then you just became a ghost. I’ve been living with an empty shell for over a year. You’ve treated me like I’m nothing, like I’m worthless. Why is it different all of a sudden? _Why. Now._ ” The last two words came from between gritted teeth, but after a moment of letting him seeth, she sensed he was finally done with the thought and waiting for an answer.

The words sank straight to the core of her. She’d known she’d have to face him eventually but had hoped to have more time to work out her own thoughts first.

“When I came back from the war, it’s like…” she swallowed. “It’s like a piece of me died. Like my soul died. I was consumed by the fact that I watched my father die and I had wanted to die out on that battlefield. That I didn’t want to live anymore after what I’d seen. But despite that fact, I just felt absolutely nothing. I watched everyone around me move on as if — as if they were trying to forget what had happened that day. But I didn’t want to forget. I would’ve done anything to go back to before that day, to unlive the terror or to even feel a shred of the terror again so that I would know I was meant to have made it out alive. Not be this hollow shell of a person I became. But I couldn’t shake the constant numbness that wracked my soul. And I couldn’t be around so much happiness. So I shut myself off. I hated myself. I tried so desperately to destroy myself, without having the courage to truly end it all.

“And then I got sent here. And I suffered through the numbness for most of my stay here, but lately, bits and pieces of feelings have been breaking through the surface. And the other night, when I got the news that you were on your deathbed, it’s like this well cracked open inside of me, and every single emotion I’d been suppressing for the past year came pouring out. And I’ve been so relieved and so utterly terrified of what’s been going on in my head since you were injured. I don’t know how else to describe it. I still have so much I need to work out. But…I’m so sorry. For everything.” With that she burst out in tears and quickly bolted from the room. The look in his eyes when he’d asked her that question had been one of such intense ire that she couldn’t bear to face him now that he knew the truth — wasn’t sure it would ever be enough to repair the gaping wound that had been torn between them.

“Nesta!” Cassian shouted after her, finally having found his voice again, but she had already sunk into her bed, sobbing and couldn’t go back in there anytime soon.


	11. Chapter 11

Eventually, Nesta did have to clean herself up and return to prepare Cassian for bed, but she spent what felt like hours staring at the ceiling, unable to move or think. She was dreading going back into that room, but knew she needed to make sure he was settled for the night before she was able to pass out herself. **  
**

She’d probably just come back to this bedroom for the night. He was clearly well on his way to being stable and shouldn’t need her attentions in the middle of the night anymore. At least then she wouldn’t be trapped with this conversation weighing like a boulder over them all night.

She prepared herself for bed first, fully intending to just take a quick peek in to clear his dishes and check on if he needed more pain medicine, but Cassian had other plans.

He let her remove the dish-laden tray, but made her come back with a glass of water that he claimed was for if he got thirsty in the middle of the night.

When she’d returned, he’d scooted over in the bed, and beckoned for her to join him. When she began to protest, he just complained about how freezing he was and how he might in fact freeze to death if she didn’t help warm the bed at least a little bit since he didn’t have a fireplace in here and couldn’t use his magic to its full extent.

She found herself slipping quietly under the sheets, as she had the night before, but she still left a healthy distance between them, not truly believing him for a second and turned to face him so she could mock him for being a huge Illyrian baby only to find his face set firmly again.

“I’m sorry. It was stupid, but I didn’t know how else to get you to stay long enough to get you to _talk_ to me again.” She began to roll over, not wanting to face this right now — when she’d crawled in, she’d hoped he was tired enough that this was just a ruse to help him sleep better — but he just whispered, “ _Please._ ”

Shit. Fine. She’d face him with her body, but that didn’t mean she had to look him in the eyes as he began.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed as hell at you, Nesta. You’ve selfishly put all your family through the ringer since the war with the way you’ve treated them. You took something special that was growing between us and pulverized it under your heel. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want to help you. I’ve never truly stopped wanting to. _Please. Tell me how._ ” The desperation in his voice gutted her.

“I don’t know. I mean, I think I’m healing. I _think_. I’ve only had a few days to try to process the fact that I can finally feel something again, but I have no idea how long that will take. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.” Hot tears were creeping back to her cheeks, and Cassian stiffly reached over with one hand and began to wipe them away. 

“I don’t really know what to say to you,” she sobbed. “I’m not sure if there’s any hope to be had or how much I’ve got right now. I’ve just begun feeling like I want to live again, but I have no idea what that means anymore.”

Cassian folded his arms across his chest and just stared up at the ceiling. Nesta closed her eyes, bracing herself to be told off again when his low voice said, “You scared the shit out of me, Nesta. You broke my heart. I’m not sure what to do now.” And that was it. For minutes. Until — “But I know that I don’t want to see you go back into that pit. I don’t ever want you to have to endure such agony again.” Another pause. “Just let me help however I can.”

“I’m moving in a few days. I think putting some distance between myself and the past is the best I can do right now. I’m not sure if there’s anything you can say to help me. I need to figure this out for myself.”

She made to leave, but felt his hand on her shoulder. “Stay.” As her eyes widened, he added, “I wasn’t lying about it being freezing in here. Just body heat. That’s all.”

As if magnetically drawn to him, Nesta felt her body scooting in until she was nestled between his arm and his chest, Cassian still needing to lie on his back. She hated herself for how weak she got when he was around.

Feeling her tense up, he murmured, “It’s just sleeping, Nesta. Nothing more. A friend comforting a friend.”

It took Nesta forever to fall asleep, even though Cassian had no problem passing out practically as soon as Nesta was in his arms.

Her mind kept catching on that word. _Friend._ It was more than they’d been in over a year, and she should be grateful that he even was able to let her slip back into his life this much even. But she couldn’t help but feel the aching in her heart at the wish that maybe he could have said something more.

* * *

Waking up here was starting to feel familiar for Nesta. Honestly, once she’d finally run out of adrenaline, that was one of the best nights of sleep she’d had in awhile. She tiptoed out of her room to go start preparing for their usual morning routine, but after having coffee and still not hearing Cassian stir, she went into her bedroom to begin packing her belongings. She needed to do this now, while she had the energy and wasn’t being bogged down by her responsibilities.

Slowly she loaded what little she had into some luggage she’d been lent when moving here. There weren’t many personal effects in this room, and other than some extra sets of leathers and a growing collection of books, she hadn’t bought anything for herself in the past year.

Once she had filled all the bags she had, she frowned at the half of her book hoard which wouldn’t fit in there. Oh well. She could just have them sent to her after-the-fact, or Emerie could just bring a few whenever she came to visit.

She was startled to find Cassian sitting up by himself when she entered the bedroom. She supposed he should be gaining some mobility soon, which would be a blessed relief for her as she despised some of the more intimate bodily functions she’d had to help him deal with this week. She’d had enough caretaking to last herself an eternity.

She set the tray next to him and took up her station on the couch, book-in-hand. She didn’t necessarily want to avoid him right now, but she had no idea how to fill the silence between them.

“I have a question.” She peeked over the top of the book to find him staring at her.

“Fine,” she retorted. It was the quickest way to get back to the story she wanted to lose herself within.

“Why did you drink so much?” Hurt flashed in his eyes, and she realized he needed to hear the answer to this explicitly in order to piece the puzzle together in his head. He was still trying to figure her out.

“Because I didn’t want to be me anymore. When I was shitfaced, I didn’t care that how I felt, or rather didn’t feel. I didn’t care if I hurt myself. I didn’t care about anything at all. And I could just stay that way for hours — days — at a time. It was a sort of escape mechanism I guess, one where I could harm myself and not remember it the next day.” Saying it out loud made her cringe. She’d known what she was trying to do to herself at the time, but there was no way she could phrase it aloud that didn’t make it sound pathetic to her now.

“Okay.” There was such sorrow in his eyes, that she couldn’t be in the same room with him anymore. Cheeks heating, she walked out to the couch in the living room, grateful that he didn’t call her back in and didn’t ask her any clarifying questions about her answer.

* * *

Today, Nesta set off to meet with Petros in the tavern again to discuss living arrangements. She was adamant right now that she just wanted to be a normal villager, didn’t want to start out with any sort of responsibilities in their new town, but she did still want to be able to train. It would keep her mind occupied enough and give her a physical outlet, but she would still have the freedom to piece herself together in her spare time though.

After an hour of conversing over drinks, hers still non-alcoholic, especially after the conversation she’d had with Cassian this morning, he handed her the keys to a small cottage near the town square which she’d be allowed to rent for a few months while she figured out her more-long-term plans. 

He’d even tried to turn away her coin, offering it for free for all she’d been doing in the camps and had done during the war, but Nesta had shoved a bag of gold she’d been saving in his direction and walked away without looking back. She’d see plenty of him in the near future anyways. She had other matters on her mind and wanted some time to think.

Arriving back at the cabin in the early evening with groceries, she quickly took to the kitchen and whipped them up a meal of meat and roasted veggies. She hadn’t gone with anything particularly heavy but knew Cassian would appreciate it after he had complained that those tyrants of his friends were forcing stew down his throat, and he was sick of it.

This time, she did stay to eat with him on the corner of the bed, and they actually had a nice conversation about the plot of their current favorite books, discussing theories for the sequels they had yet to read and lamenting the fact that as soon as they finished the remaining books, they’d have to wait for the next one.

When the conversation had died down a bit, Cassian mumbled between bites, “I have another question. Hear me out.”

Nesta’s heart raced as she knew this would likely be harder to answer than the one posed this morning. “Okay.” It was all she could muster.

“No judgment, but…why did you sleep with all those males when you obviously weren’t enjoying it? I thought…I thought that was something you despised.”

Fuck. This was one of the hardest questions of all to answer.

“I did it to make myself feel numb. When I was with a male, I felt nothing at all. Not when he kissed me. Not when he touched me. Not even when…” Her voice broke. “I did it because I liked being in control of that. I did it because when Tomas tried to have his way with me, I wished I could feel nothing at all. I did it because I hated myself, and maybe, just maybe, one day I would feel something again and get so furious at myself that I could break the cycle of numbness. But that didn’t happen. And when I was drunk and sleeping with a male…” Tears were now streaming down her face. 

* * *

Cassian reached out and beckoned her to him. He still couldn’t move to her, but he so desperately wished he could. Fuck staying away from her. He hadn’t even lasted a few days, and hearing her open up to him about how broken she’d been was breaking his heart all over again.

She shrunk into the hollow of his chest, quietly sobbing against him.

His head was screaming at him not to ask the question, not to open himself back up to her this way, but he couldn’t hold back.

“So, you’ve never felt anything when being kissed? Just numbness?” Fuck. He was already dreading the answer.

“Not…in a long time. Back…years ago. Before the war. Before everything. I think I’d felt it. Butterflies in my stomach. But I spent so long like that, I’ve forgotten what it’s supposed to feel like.”

She was holding back. She had to be holding back. It’s not that he doubted the truth of her words, but he’d so desperately wanted her to admit that she’d felt something for him once. He’d once kissed the hollow of her neck in her father’s house and they’d shared a kiss that day on the battlefield. But he’d been doubting that she’d had feelings for him then ever since it became apparent that she was truly shutting him out. 

Why couldn’t she just say that _those_ were the kisses that had left an impression on her amidst the darkness?

He wasn’t even sure if he should still feel something romantically for her, but he was a fool. With her taking comfort in his arms right now, there was no way he could deny that he was still in love with Nesta. He’d shoved it into the deepest recesses of his heart but clearly hadn’t ever been able to eradicate it.

He was in such deep shit, but he relished it as he spent the rest of the evening holding and comforting her until she decided they should really go to sleep. At least this time, she didn’t even need to be asked to climb in bed with him. She just did so in a sort of trance after bathing and promptly fell asleep with her head on his chest, her damp hair flowing across his shoulder.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day flew by for both Nesta and Cassian. They chatted amicably throughout the day and took all their meals together, delighting in the warm comfort that they were both slowly easing back into. **  
**

Cassian had felt up to trying to walk around with the assistance of Nesta and the healer and had been slowly shuffling around the cabin all day with her support. The healer promised to send Madja tomorrow as she thought by then Cassian might’ve recovered enough to be mobile.

It was wonderful news which the two celebrated over dinner that night, not willing to talk about the elephant in the room — that Nesta was still moving tomorrow. She’d put her foot down, and even though she desperately wanted to melt into Cassian’s bed and never leave, she had to stick with her gut choice.

Even as the two laid in bed, silently, on that final night, she couldn’t bring herself to admit what she’d been trying to come to terms with this week. That she _liked_ Cassian. That she had feelings for him, no matter how broken and misguided they probably were. She still didn’t like herself and wasn’t sure how to reconcile the two emotions with each other.

Her stay in Stormridge wasn’t permanent. Perhaps in a few months, she’d have her head on her shoulders and he’d be settled with his new responsibilities. The best she could hope for was a chance when life had sorted itself out.

It was this thought that kept her quiet about the niggling feeling in her gut, content to just lay in his arms — as his friend — one last time.

* * *

As expected, Madja cleared him the next day, and he was officially walking about the cabin of his own accord. It was only a little at a time, and Nesta still made sure to bring him anything he needed, but he looked so relieved to be mobile again that it brought a smile to her face. She was truly going to miss this little cabin.

She’d sent a message to Feyre asking her to winnow her to Stormridge early this evening. She couldn’t spend another night here and keep her resolve. As she’d already packed up a couple of days ago, there was nothing left to do but to say her goodbyes.

Emerie, she’d just sent a letter. Her friend knew she was leaving soon anyways and could still easily come over to visit whenever she wanted. It wasn’t so much of a goodbye as a “ _See you later,_ ” anyways.

Now that the hour was fast approaching, she finally broke the news to Cassian after they’d finished supper in the small dining room.

“I’m moving to Stormridge. I know you knew it was coming, but I asked Feyre to take me tonight. She’ll be here soon.”

An icy expression passed over his face. Oh gods. He hadn’t thought she would actually follow through with it. Perhaps all his actions over the past few days had been in an attempt to make her stay. No. She couldn’t afford to think like that right now.

But he made it easy for her as he turned on his heels and silently ambled towards his room, shutting the door behind him. Fine.

* * *

Cauldron boil him. He’d known she wanted to leave. She’d made that very clear, but with the way she’d been opening up to him over the past few days, he’d thought… He didn’t know what he’d thought. That she would suddenly decide to stay on a whim? That she might think she could heal here, with him? 

Fuck. Maybe if he’d just said the words to her…but he couldn’t commit to that right now. He needed more time, but more time _with_ her to sort out his heart and put the pieces back together. What if she was happier in Stormridge? What if she found happiness with someone else and never came back to him?

The thoughts eddied in his head as he lost track of time until there was a knock at the door. Oh no. Feyre would be taking Nesta away, and he’d just acted like the world’s biggest idiot by turning his back on her when she gave him the news.

He scrambled toward his bedroom door, or more accurately shuffled there with a sense of urgency, only to find Nesta with pieces of packed luggage standing in the entryway with Feyre.

Feyre snapped her fingers to throw the luggage into the between-space and was about to grab Nesta’s hand when Cassian yelled out, “ _Wait!_ ”

Nesta turned back toward him, and Feyre gave him a knowing nod before slipping out the front door.

* * *

“Nesta,” he murmured her name like a prayer as he ambled over to her. She waited until he caught up with her, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of meeting him halfway. She was still pissed at how he’d just left her standing in the living room when she’d given him the news.

“Nesta, please.” As he approached her, he took her face in his hands. Holy gods. Nesta thought her thundering heart was going to break right out of her rib cage.

“I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t tell you…Nesta, I’m still in love with you.” She couldn’t do anything but stare into his eyes in shock.

“I don’t expect you to say it back, and I’m honestly not sure exactly what this means for us. I’m pretty sure my heart is still broken in places from this past year, but I haven’t been able to think of anything else for the past hour. You had to know.”

Nesta continued staring at him, dumbfounded. It’s what she had been wanting to hear from him for days, but it still didn’t change anything. She desperately wanted him to have these feelings for her but wasn’t sure hers matched up to the intensity of his. 

Love. _He’d said “love”._

He rested his forehead against her own, and breathing in his air completely undid her. She leaned in to close the distance between their mouths, unable to resist the pull of his gravity any longer, but he pulled away. Only slightly, but enough to make it obvious that he wasn’t ready to take this step.

She schooled her face into a glare as he quickly interjected, “Not yet, Nesta. Someday, but not yet.” The confusion must’ve shown on her face because he added, “I need to know you feel the same. Take some time to sort out your own feelings.”

She gulped, not knowing how to proceed now. He had to be holding something back. Surely he felt the electricity between them, needed to kiss her as badly as she needed to feel his tongue slip between her lips, to taste him again. She’d forgotten what that felt like.

“ _Why?_ ” A whisper.

The question clearly bothered him as he stretched one arm behind his head, scratching the back of his neck, and sighed. “I’m scared, Nesta. I’m scared that you won’t feel anything at all if I kiss you now, that after years of feeling nothing, I’ll be just another tally on that list of males.” He swallowed. “I need to know that you feel the same current flowing between us that I do. That you’re ready for this. And even if you think you might feel it now, I want to make sure it _lasts_. I don’t think I could come back from losing you again.”

 _Oh_. It all made sense now. The hesitation. The walls he’d built between them. Every single interaction they’d had this week.

But she still needed _him_. Right now. “ _Please_ , Cassian.”

“I meant what I said, Nesta.” He pushed her body flush against the wall with his own and pinned her arms over her head, keeping his own face well out of her reach in case she got any ideas about kissing him. The heat of his body against hers was sheer torture. Especially as he leaned in close and nipped on her ear. “I want to do everything with you. I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. I want to make love to you for days on end until neither of us can move. I want the chance to love you. But not until you’re completely and totally ready to love me.” His breath tickled her ear, causing heat to pool in her core and her body to twitch as shivers wracked through it.

The bastard had to know full well what he’d done to her as he whispered, “Goodbye, Nesta,” and left her frozen in the entryway, as he turned and retreated to his room.

Hopefully triggered by some signal from Cassian and not her own snooping, Feyre soon opened the door, and grabbed Nesta’s hand, whisking her to a camp that seemed worlds away from the small foyer she’d just left. 


	13. Chapter 13

Thank the Cauldron for Feyre. If she hadn’t been standing right outside that door, waiting for his signal, he would’ve taken Nesta right there. He would’ve told her not to go, but Cassian couldn’t stand in her way, no matter how much he wanted her there with him. **  
**

He hadn’t been lying when he told Nesta he was scared. He was absolutely terrified that now that he was finally seeming to get her back, they’d move too quickly. If she didn’t feel anything that first time he kissed her for real, she would likely back off for good, and he knew she was far from healing from her trauma.

Lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, Cassian finally allowed himself to relieve himself, shakily undoing the physical reminder which being so close to Nesta, their bodies flush against each other, had left in his pants.

On the bright side, he was looking forward to teasing her mercilessly for the foreseeable future. He could feel her heart fluttering earlier, noticed the change in her scent as he breathed those words in her ear. The least he could do was tempt her further whenever he got the chance to see her.

Which hopefully would be soon. As soon as regained enough core strength to fly, he knew where his first destination would be.

But for now he had to prepare himself for tomorrow. The coronation.

* * *

The square in Windhaven filled with curious onlookers and all the gathered Illyrian camp lords.

Cassian stood on a platform they’d erected specially for the event. He’d wanted to do this as quickly as he could once he was able to strongly present himself, and with the fact that this bargain was a last-minute decision already, there was nowhere official for him to be crowned in Illyria. He hadn’t wanted to use any of the royal sites in the Hewn City or Velaris though because he hadn’t wanted to further alienate the Illyrians, his people.

Though he was fully aware that every lord was bargain-sworn to honor his decisions and his rule, he truly wanted them to come to respect him eventually. He had to try to play by their rules, their natural inclination to separate themselves from the way the rest of the Night Court was governed.

As the the sun reached its apex in the sky, Rhys and Feyre stepped forward. They’d repurposed an old Night Court crown which hadn’t been worn in millenia, but Cassian appreciated its simplicity. It was made from an onyx-dark metal, depicting some simple mountains with delicate tree branches twisted between them.

He’d felt it was the closest representation to his home out of the trove Rhys had shown him, and the fact that it hadn’t been seen perched on a High Lord’s head by anyone in living memory could only help him now. 

The thing that had really drawn him to it though was the metal. The color had enraptured him, reminding him of the peak of Ramiel. It would be a daily reminder of what he’d been through, what all the Illyrian warriors had gone through, to get where he was today.

As Rhys spoke the sacred words, a blending of his own oath taken to the Night Court with the traditional Illyrian oath taken to by any ascending camp lord promising to protect his subjects, Cassian bowed before the crowd, shutting his eyes.

He felt the crown get laid on his brow, and slowly ascended to his feet as Feyre commanded, “Rise, Cassian, King of Illyria.” 

To the audience, Rhys demanded, “Bow to your king.” 

Cassian could feel the night-flecked command in that voice, and held up a hand to his High Lord, signaling him to step down. This was Cassian’s territory now, and he had to own it.

Rhys and Feyre backed off the platform, leaving Cassian alone, staring into the crowd. 

It was an effort to keep himself from shaking as he reflected on the fact that he’d never wanted this for his life. He’d wanted his people to respect him, to acknowledge him, but never to have to fully bow to him. He still couldn’t handle the concept of people using a title to address him.

“At ease.” He still couldn’t separate himself from the commander he’d been all his life. He’d prepared a small speech, but he desperately wanted to get off this stage as he scanned the crowd for the one person he’d hoped would show up. It was ridiculous to expect her to return so quickly when she’d been whisked away only last night, but Cassian could dream. 

He scanned every pair of eyes, finding only variations on hazel, none of the soul-crushing blue which held a vise-grip on his heart.

“We need to come together as a people. For centuries, we’ve been falling behind the rest of the territory, stifling some of our best warriors by insisting that they’re deemed for lesser tasks than fighting on the battlefield. It’s important that we keep the traditions that make us Illyrian, that form our identity, but also important that we include every member of our society. Everyone should have the choice to be a homemaker. Everyone should have the choice to become a tradesperson. Everyone should have the choice to become a warrior.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. Some of the more misogynistic lords were squirming in their spots, looking like they wanted to shout out in protest, but the consequences for doing so would be deadly, for them and their families.

“Effective today, I’m banning wing clipping. I want everyone here to reconsider what their ambitions in life are. Perhaps you’ve been told by your superiors that you aren’t fit to pursue your passion, but I promise you that you are. 

“Instill this in your children so every child has a chance to grow up happy, fulfilled in their life choices. If nothing else, pursue this for them. We’ll be institutionalizing an education system where both male and female younglings will learn combat training and other trade skills. Once they’re old enough, they can choose a specialization to pursue.”

“I can’t help but feel like in a world blessed by this equality for both males and females, my mother would still be alive. That she wouldn’t have been shamed, tortured, starved to death because she was only a simple camp laundress who made what others considered to be a mistake with a male who may still be standing among us today. Never again.” He made sure his steely gaze bore into each and every member of the assembly, wanting them to remember that village he’d razed to the ground.

His wings had unintentionally flared out to their full span, a primal instinct to assert his dominance over the crowd as his temper had heated, but he couldn’t say he regretted it for a heartbeat. Let them remember that he was their alpha, that his wingspan dwarfed theirs, bastard-born or not.

Now for a more uplifting course of action.

“I’ll be appointing a small circle of trusted members to assist me in ruling the everyday issues around Illyria, but I always want you to feel like you can voice your opinions to me. I’ll also be setting up weekly sessions where I’ll be available to listen to whatever may be troubling you and will travel between camps to make sure we’re constantly progressing.”

He looked all the lords directly in the eyes. “And finally, of course, I will continue leading you into battle, fighting on the front lines to defend my people with my life, as I have been doing for five centuries and will always do until the day I die.”

Cassian turned and walked off the stage, not looking back at the crowd tentatively applauding him, not caring to gauge their reactions as he strolled back to his cabin for some much needed respite.

* * *

“That was incredible, Cassian.” Mor clinked her glass against his own as they were all huddled on the couches, Nesta’s moved back into the living room now.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, still flustered by how this had all turned out. From the day he’d suggested the idea to Rhys weeks ago, he’d known it’d all be leading to this moment. That he’d have to swallow all his self-doubts and take up this mantle. It still just felt surreal. He hoped he had made an inkling of a difference in the hearts of the Illyrians today, and prayed that he wouldn’t let them down.

“Cat got your tongue, Cass?” Feyre stuck hers out at him from where she was perched in Rhys’ lap across the room.

“He used up all his allotted words for today in that fancy speech he made earlier,” Amren jabbed.

Knocking back his glass, Cassian forced out a laugh but couldn’t quite bring himself to come up with a witty retort. He was just so incredibly tired. As much as he loved that his friends had come to celebrate with him today, he was still exhausted from his still-healing body, and still reeling from his confrontation last night.

He wished he could focus on the moment and enjoy it, but he just wasn’t in the mood.

He escaped into the bathing room to splash some water on his face and regain his composure. It was only for a few more hours. He could do this. 

Stopping by the kitchen for a refill on his drink, he made his way back to the living room with a smile pasted on his face — laughing and joking and hoping his friends wouldn’t realize how incredibly lost he felt today.  



	14. Chapter 14

As the darkness faded, and Nesta took in the front porch of her new home, her gut was still roiling. **  
**

Cassian had…had told her he was in love with her, but how did he know?

Nesta had been fighting the seed of some emotion that had taken up its home in her heart this past week, spreading its roots and threatening to overwhelm her, but how would she know if it were love?

She’d thought she’d been in love before, once. With Tomas. And look at how that had turned out. She still felt nauseous at the way Tomas had thought he owned her — had tried to push too far, far too fast for Nesta. If not for a few swift self-defense maneuvers her father had taught her, he would’ve taken her virginity against her will before she could flee back to her family’s estate.

And of course, there’d always been some sort of connection between herself and Cassian before the war, but she’d never gotten the chance to fully explore her feelings.

Feyre snapped her out of her musings by snapping a finger and placing all of Nesta’s belongings on the floor in the small living room. Included in them were all the books she hadn’t gotten to pack.

Her sister gave her a smile, noticing the surprise on Nesta’s face and asking, “Really? I’m not even sure why you bothered to use the bags. It doesn’t make a difference to me.”

Nesta just gave her a small nod, and headed toward the couch. 

“Are you going to be okay, Nesta?”

She knew she should be upset that Feyre was sticking her nose in her business and that she almost definitely knew what had happened in that entryway only minutes ago, but the soft concern in her voice was crumbling Nesta’s walls.

“I don’t know. I think so. I still don’t think I’m okay _now_ , but this can only be good for me,” she replied.

“Do you want me to stop by and see how you’re doing later this week? We’ll still be in Illyria for a few more days, but it’s easy enough to winnow here anytime.”

“No. Please. Just don’t. I need some space. From _everyone_. I’m not sure I can figure out where I fit in — what I want and need — with you busybodies hovering over me. I’ll be fine.” She turned and headed deeper into the house, wanting to check out her small, but cozy, bedroom and what the bathing accomodations were like. Gods. She needed to wash Cassian’s scent off of her before she went mad and did something rash like begging her sister to take her back to Windhaven.

“Okay.” Nesta saw Feyre put her hands up in surrender, trying to act innocent of the fact that she was obviously a little too curious about Nesta’s affairs, out of the corner of her eye. “But what’re you going to do about Cassian?”

Nesta whirled on her, suddenly seething. Why couldn’t anyone just stay the hell out of her business? She didn’t _know_ what she was going to do about him. In the moment when he’d refused to kiss her, she’d felt so lost, but when he’d explained his hesitation, Nesta couldn’t help but realize that he might be right.

Sure, she felt a fiery passion burning through her at the mere thought of the activities he’d whispered in her ear, but what if the moment they actually went any further physically, it just…fizzled? She hadn’t felt anything at all for the past couple of years when sleeping with a male. Would she still feel the same about Cassian if they kissed and she was just as numb? Could she even pick up the pieces of this tattered part of herself?

“That’s none of your business. We’re _friends_.” Her voice caught on the word. “Finally, after all this time, I’ve figured out how to be that. I don’t need you interfering and messing this up.” Unable to find anything more to say on the subject to her sister, she pointed to the door and mumbled, “I think you should leave now.”

Feyre simply disappeared, not even bothering with the pretense of leaving the house before she vanished back to Windhaven.

Nesta walked in a daze into her new bedroom, curled up on the unfamiliar bed, which felt strangely empty, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Her first few days in Stormridge went by in a blur.

Nesta wandered around the camp, meeting some of its more outgoing inhabitants and gaining a lay of the land, but that could only occupy so much of her thoughts.

After her slow introduction to the town, she finally came across a group of young females who consistently sparred with each other everyday, and usually for long, grueling sessions. The group seemed tight-knit, but when Nesta approached them, they eagerly accepted her request to join them and brought her into the training ring with them right then and there.

It was brutal work, more intense than anything she’d engaged in while staying in Windhaven.

There, she’d signed up for the bare minimum that Cassian would allow, counting on Emerie to also drag her along to extra sessions occasionally.

Nesta welcomed the fatigue, the pain that came with those training sessions. Each evening, she’d collapse into bed after a long, hot bath, and quickly drift off before her mind could run wild.

She certainly still had plenty of time elsewhere to be thinking of Cassian though. His quips would fill her head whenever she’d screw up a maneuver in practice, which was often. His praises would ring in her ears whenever she bested an opponent in a match. His face would be mirrored in his protege whenever she happened to run into the boy. 

As a newly announced member of Cassian’s council, along with an evenly-mixed handful of males and females from throughout Illyria, Petros was always running around looking frazzled, but he periodically would make time to stop by the training grounds to check in with Nesta.

She had to admit that he was growing on her. She saw in him a quiet soul. Though he reminded her more of Azriel in general, she still saw moments shine through where he’d be as outgoing and friendly as Cassian, as he got to know her better. Despite his rough upbringing, she could tell it hadn’t stained his soul. Petros would evolve into a great dignitary one day. As soon as he had a chance to mature a little more, become a bit more worldly.

And Cassian. Gods. She realized she _missed_ his company. Over the past year, whether she’d wanted it or not, he’d been a constant presence in her life. Other than her post-war stint in Velaris, where she often brought in the company of some unnamed male anyways, she’d never actually lived alone. She’d always had her father, her sisters, her irritating Illyrian brute. 

She found that the adjustment back to the utter isolation when she was at home was more difficult than she’d imagined when she’d started planning the move.

More than anything though, she just wished he was in her bed. As brief as time stint of sleeping together had been, it had been some of the best sleep Nesta had ever gotten in her life.

* * *

One day, a couple of weeks into her life in Stormridge, Nesta sensed a disturbance in the camp, an unease, as she packed up her training gear. She’d gotten her ass thoroughly beaten today by Zahra, the youngest member of their group, and even though she knew the young female had years of training on her, it didn’t soften the blow to her ego.

The cabin was only a five minute walk from the training grounds, but during the entire duration, she kept glancing over her shoulder, feeling like she was being followed. She didn’t like the change in the air that had put the Illyrians on edge, and felt this might be a bad omen.

Nesta walked briskly back to the cabin, continuously keeping on high alert. She made it to the front door, and quickly stepped inside, fluidly latching up behind her — her habits at locking up swiftly becoming useful.

When a few minutes went by with no incident, no creaking, no strange noises, no shouts from outside, she began to calm down, allowing herself to step further inside. She slipped out of her sweaty clothes and into a robe, intending to take a nice relaxing bath soon — after she had acquired a cup of tea to soothe her nerves. 

Just when she had set a kettle on the stove, a knock sounded on Nesta’s door. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and was still on edge from her fret-filled journey home. The knock sounded again, a furious pounding, as if the visitor was frustrated at having to wait.

Nesta grabbed her practice sword — the closest thing she had to a real weapon in the house — and slowly crept toward it, preparing to defend herself if they tried to force their entry. Another round of knocking before she heard a loud sigh sound from outside the door.

“Nesta, I know you’re in there,” a familiar voice drawled.

Lowering the sword, Nesta ran the last few steps toward the door and flung it open.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

_Cassian. Cassian. Cassian._ **  
**

The name clanged in her head as she reached for the handle. As the door swung wide, she beheld him, in his finest leathers, bearing some fresh vegetables from the market in the camp square.

Nesta grabbed his hand, dragging him inside before shutting the door.

“So you’re why they’re all worked up, I take it?” she murmured, practice sword still in hand though she had lowered it to her side.

He eyed the makeshift weapon, and replied, “Well, I see I’m going to have to buy you something that can actually defend you. What the hell would you have done if I’d really been an intruder?”

Though his tone was light, she could still sense the innate warrior internally groaning at how vulnerable she would’ve been.

Nesta blushed, growing defensive. “I…I would’ve been fine, thank you very much.” It was hard to control her words around him, her usual jabs softened by her elation at his surprise appearance.

Not wanting to hear him lay into her for being so defenseless, she turned and made her way to the bathing room, intending to finish what she’d started. “You can whip me up a supper worthy of someone who trained all day. I’m going to go soak in the tub.” With a flick of her hand, she started towards the bathroom.

“Thank the gods. I was wondering what that awful smell was,” Cassian retorted, chuckling, but she did notice him head toward the small kitchen. Hopefully something edible would be waiting for her when she emerged.

Nesta took her sweet time. Now that she was once again able to stomach being in the tub, bathing had become her daily ritual, a way to calm her nerves and relax her muscles after hours on end spent in the ring. 

Unfortunately, tonight, she still had trouble relaxing. Her whole body urged her toward the kitchen, toward the male she’d been yearning to see for a couple of weeks — ever since the moment she’d touched down in Stormridge.

After practically half an hour of cleansing herself and doing everything in her power to clear her mind of the dirty thoughts that assaulted it — all singly focused on the words he’d spoken to her upon their parting in Windhaven — she toweled off and changed into her nightgown.

Cassian was waiting for her on the bed. He had brought in two trays, reminiscent of when she had brought dinner to him everyday during that week he’d been bedridden. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Nesta sat hesitantly next to him atop the mattress, and they ate in silence for a few minutes, both of them seemingly too overwhelmed by the other’s presence to come up with a topic of conversation.

“I have a question for you,” she blurted out, the mirror of when he’d asked her some of the tough questions during that fated week together.

“Anything.” The reply was almost instant, as he earnestly stared her in the eyes.

“Are — are you enjoying being king?” She stumbled over the words which were not at all her originally intended inquiry. That had been far more scandalous, some question about his romantic past, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice her sheer nervousness as she casually attempted to take another bite.

“Seriously?” he asked, as she nodded demurely in response. “I fucking hate it. I’ve never wanted this kind of power over my people. Yes, I wanted them to respect me but only because of my skills, my prowess in battle. I don’t think I’ll ever grow used to the titles they address me with now. I only did it because I had to…”

“I’m sorry,” Nesta whispered.

“Don’t be sorry. There was nothing you could do to help this. If we’d been able to change all of their backwards ways in a year, I would’ve been shocked speechless. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and the clans were on the verge of all-out rebellion. It was nobody’s fault but my own. I shouldn’t have let it get that far out of control in the first place. I should’ve realized it and had Rhys deal with it sooner.” Cassian looked lost in thought, and Nesta felt a tinge of sadness for the warrior, her king.

She’d lost interest in her meal, her focus wholy on the male before her. He scooted toward her, closing the gap between them on the mattress and cradling her cheek in his calloused hand. “You’ve done everything you can, Nesta.”

While she knew he was wrong, that she could have fought harder, become more involved in the process of listening to the Illyrian people and working with them, she couldn’t find it in herself to care right now. Not with Cassian’s face only inches from her own, the gesture he’d made so intimate. But still, he made no move toward her, to give her the kiss — the release — she so desperately craved.

Fine. She’d just have to make the move herself. As she leaned her face in toward him, he reacted quickly, taking her by surprise by grabbing her deftly and placing her in his lap, facing away from him.

“Not yet, Nesta,” he breathed in her ear, and Nesta’s body went taut and loose at the same time, frustrated by him rejecting her advance but dying to have him continue this teasing.

His broad chest was warm behind her, causing her muscles to unwind slightly. They still had huge knots in them.

“A little tense, are we now?” The tickling breath crept from her ear down to her neck where he planted the most delicate of kisses, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

Unable to verbally respond given how overwhelmed her senses were at the moment, Nesta merely nodded, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. She would give anything right now for him to continue plying her with those kisses. She was already in withdrawal and it had only been moments, but…

Cassian shifted her forward a little, creating a slight gap between them. Nesta turned her head to protest, but Cassian’s strong hands had already found her shoulder blades.

Mother above.

Nesta let out a deeply satisfied moan, savoring the way his thumbs sank into her upper back, the way he so gently yet powerfully worked at the knots in her neck. 

She’d never received a massage before, and it felt heavenly. Yet how anyone could go more than a few days without one of these was now a mystery to her.

After a few minutes, Cassian shifted to prop himself on his knees and began stroking soothing circles across the plain of her back. The contact was heated and almost tickling, leaving parts of her skin shivering as his hand would pass across them and move onto another spot desperately in need of his touch. Even though the thin fabric of her nightgown, the electricity between them was shredding her resolve.

 _More_. She needed more of him, craved it.

Before Nesta got the opportunity to voice her desires though, he leaned in so his lips brushed her ear once more and whispered, “Lie down, Nes.” At his full command, she flopped onto her back only to find him instantly hovering over her, his legs straddling her midsection, wings spread wide, gesturing with one finger that she flip over onto her stomach.

She pouted up at him, knowing that her opportunities for intimacy were more limited if she weren’t facing him. 

“Come on, sweetheart.”

Nesta went liquid beneath him at the uttering of his pet name for her, immediately wanting to do whatever he asked of her. Anything at all. 

Gulping down air, she quickly found it in herself to roll onto her stomach, laying her head on her folded arms.

Cassian immediately got to work. His rough hands smoothly slid beneath her gown as he began to knead at her back. If having her neck massaged had been heavenly, this was on yet another level. He took time to search out every single knot and gave them all detailed attention, working them until they were just but a trace of a memory and Nesta was putty in his hands.

Once done, he shifted the fabric of her top just enough so that he could trace a line of tender kisses all the way down her spine. Heat pooled in her core. Gods. She could not get enough of him right now.

But Cassian wasn’t finished yet. He slid off her body, leaving one hand firmly on her back to signal not to move a muscle before transitioning to her legs. He started at her feet, gripping them firmly, one at a time and rubbing circles with his thumb that made her squirm. She’d always had particularly ticklish feet.

Chuckling to himself, as he learned this little secret of hers, he delicately kissed the tops of each before moving to her legs. His thumbs pressed into the back of her calves, tenderly rubbing at her sore muscles.

Eventually, he moved onto her thighs, pressing down with the heel of one hand and sliding it up, up, up…but then he paused a few inches from her backside, holding the hand there. Prick.

Nesta’s heart skipped a beat, and then another before he deftly moved to the other thigh.

Once again, he applied pressure, sliding it along the back of her leg, until he still stopped short, though this time he’d made it slightly higher.

Nesta felt dizzy with desire for him to just _touch_ her and infuriated that he was getting away with teasing her like this. As exhausted as her body was, her mind was wired as she got tormented so blissfully.

Parting her legs slightly, Cassian firmly grabbed both thighs in his hands and began lazily stroking smooth circles on them with his thumbs and ever so gradually migrating them northward.

The wait as his hands traveled so nonchalantly toward her midsection was endless, until…they grazed the fabric of her panties. Just the ghost of feeling his touch through the fabric was enough for Nesta to combust. Removing one hand from the back of her leg, he tauntingly brushed his hand up against her, his fingers lightly rubbing up against her clit, no doubt feeling the evidence of her arousal that had to be seeping through her underwear.

After a few minutes of this torment, with Nesta’s body seizing in pleasure more than a few times despite the light, playful nature of the delicate touch, his hand withdrew, and everything just…stopped.

Nesta lay panting for a moment before strong arms lifted her and she was skillfully repositioned with her head on a pillow, the arms never releasing their hold on her as their owner’s body pressed up firmly behind hers.

Before she could even try to wriggle in his arms and attempt to turn on him, the Fae lights within the room were all extinguished, and she found herself staring blindly at nothing.

Still panting at the phantom memory of his touch, she murmured, “Why’d you stop?”

At the silence which followed her inquiry, she used his hesitation to flip herself around and almost succeeded to press her lips against his own before he deftly rolled her back to the other side and tightened his grip on her.

“Not tonight, Nesta,” he ground out. “And this isn’t your call to make. _I_ decide when I get to kiss _you_.”

Clearly, this was bullshit. Nesta wanted him. He wanted her. With her backside flush against his body, she could _feel_ the evidence that he wanted this just as much as she did. There was no hiding his massive length pressed firmly up against her.

“Keep going,” she hissed. “I want you inside me,” she amended, purring the words, trying to seduce him over the edge of the cliff she knew he was straddling.

Indeed his cock twitched minutely against her backside, but his grip on her didn’t let up.

“If you wanted me so badly, you wouldn’t have worn those panties to bed,” he murmured in her ear. “They were the only things standing in my way, sweetheart.” Once again, Nesta melted at the term of endearment. “Such a pity, don’t you think?” His raspy voice teased in her ear.

Nesta was going to catch fire and burn. He truly hadn’t planned on relieving her tonight. The prick. She knew he had to be waiting for something, and she had an inkling of what it might be, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words yet, no matter how badly she wanted him. She wasn’t ready to make that step. She still had a lot to process.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, she ceased struggling in his arms and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight, Nesta,” he whispered in her ear as he entangled his legs with hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling, and as she began fading fast, comforted by his body wrapped around hers, she could’ve sworn he also whispered, “I love you.”


	16. Chapter 16

Damn. Cassian had been hoping she’d tell him she returned his feelings. He knew her body had in the physical sense — her drenched underwear and hitched breathing making it difficult for her to hide that fact from him. **  
**

He knew it was likely that his kiss would destroy her just as much as it would him — to finally have that closure. He had to admit that he wasn’t as worried about her feeling numb towards him after tonight. But the fact that she was still unable to utter the words left him wanting, and he was unwilling to cede ground on this issue now that he’d set his foot down.

He didn’t even need to hear the word “love” really. Even a simple admission that she was falling for him or that she cared for him would probably tempt his resolve at this point. He just wasn’t going to cave when the only things she expressed desire for were purely physical demands.

He really wanted to take a cold bath to calm and distract himself, but he was so content with Nesta lying here in his arms that he instantly nixed the idea, opting instead to wait it out, focusing on the deep breathing of his sleeping little spoon.

 _His_. He really shouldn’t be referring to her as such when she’d made no commitment to him, but his body and soul were hers for the taking, had been since that fateful day they met in the human realm.

At least he’d been able to have some fun in the interim. He could feel the frustration of his teasing wafting off Nesta earlier this evening. He had so many fantasies about her, and he was sure he could adapt plenty of them if need be to include all of the foreplay — and none of the release.

She had no idea what she had coming for her.

* * *

Cassian woke early the next morning, just as sunlight was barely beginning to peak over the mountains.

As much as it pained him to disappear on Nesta when he desperately wanted to just spend all day worshipping her, he had meetings with three more village lords today and had to be off early in order to be on-time for the first one.

His days since being coronated had been so hectic that it had been difficult to even arrange the order of these meetings so he could coincidentally drop by and get to spend the evening with her.

Hopefully within another week, he’d have concluded these one-on-one meetings and be able to indulge himself. And her. Even when they’d been on the brink of war, he couldn’t remember ever having felt as exhausted as he did now. He rubbed his eyes to try to help wake himself further before ever-so-carefully un-entwining their legs and slipping out of the bed. Nesta stirred a bit but thankfully didn’t wake.

Cassian padded towards the front door on his tiptoes and after gently closing it behind him, shot off into the sky.

* * *

Nesta awoke to the sound of beating wings and a lonely sensation as she realized the bed’s other occupant was no longer there. His side of the mattress was still warm though, so he must have just crept out of the house, and his wings must’ve been the ones that jolted her awake as he took his leave of her.

If the prick loved her so much, how could he have just abandoned her without saying goodbye? Their whole interaction last night had been confusing to say the least.

He’d surprised her, showing up out of the blue and obviously making other stops around the camp before coming to see her. He’d teased her mercilessly but hadn’t followed through on any of it. He’d cuddled her to sleep but hadn’t woken her up to bid her farewell.

The whole encounter just left her brain muddled. She wanted more of him. She thought he’d already handed over his heart to her, so why was he being so coy with her? The thought was frustrating. She’d been unable to express herself to him verbally, but he had to know that she was falling for him too.

Nesta had never been so vulnerable with anyone, not even Elain. If he couldn’t pick up on that himself, then what was he good for?

Nesta stormed into the kitchen for some breakfast, stomach grumbling loudly after they’d practically ignored half their dinner last night. As she turned into the larger living space, she noticed a glint of metal and saw that Cassian had left his Illyrian blade, scabbard and all propped up in the entryway. 

She’d never seen him without it in battle, but she couldn’t help smiling to herself as she pulled it out of its sheath to test the weight of it.

* * *

The next week of her life was long and arduous. It passed by much like the first few had, except now Nesta was even more assaulted with thoughts of Cassian. He consumed her being, with every little detail of her life somehow reminding her of him.

She was granted a small reprieve from her pining when Emerie stopped over to spend a few nights with her. Another mutual friend of theirs had graciously offered to watch over the shop for the duration of her stay as long as Emerie brought back some juicy gossip supposedly.

Nesta denied with every breath that there even was anything to gossip about. Her life here had been fairly routine and ordinary, but Zahra let it slip one afternoon in the ring that everyone in town was vividly aware of the path Cassian had blazed to Nesta’s house on that fabled evening. Since he hadn’t been seen again that night, it was heavily assumed that he’d stayed over on a lover’s visit.

Nesta had fumed, the distraction enough to cause her to lose focus altogether. She wasn’t yet an instinctual enough fighter to have her anger provide any use in the ring. The match had swiftly ended at her opponent’s hands, and Nesta, with cheeks blazing, had stomped off without another word. Emerie had quickly gathered both her own and Nesta’s belongings and was barreling through the front door only a few minutes after Nesta.

“Nothing even happened!” Nesta yelled, overly-embarrassed that her private business and Cassian’s comings and goings were clearly public knowledge.

Emerie placed a hand on her shoulder and uttered, “Calm down, Nesta. It’s only to be expected that all eyes are going to be trained on him right now. He’s _royalty_. And a type of royalty we’ve never had before at that. And you’re…well…a legend, having been turned fae by the Cauldron and killing the King of Hybern.”

Nesta groaned and buried her face in her hands.

“Honestly, if nothing was happening, why does it even matter what they think?” her friend asked tentatively.

“Because I _wanted_ something to happen. And he…he rejected me,” Nesta growled primally. She sat stunned for a moment, her response surprising even herself.

Emerie bit out a sharp laugh. “ _What?_ Cassian’s had his eyes all over you for as long as I’ve known you two. Even though you both weren’t on speaking terms most of the time, I saw the raw way he used to look in your direction whenever your attention was elsewhere. He even looked like he wanted to rip other males’ head off whenever they got into arguments with you. I’m sorry, but if that bastard isn’t in love with you, then I don’t think I understand the meaning of the word anymore.”

“He is,” Nesta whispered. “He’s told me, but I haven’t…” she paused and took a deep breath. “I haven’t told him that I love him back.”

“And do you?” her friend inquired.

“I don’t know. I think so, but I’m not sure.”

“And what’s making you hesitate?”

“I don’t know if this feeling _is_ love. The one other time I thought I loved a man, he turned out to be a terrible human being. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. I’ve never felt a lick of anything for any male that I’ve slept with. I can’t stop thinking about him, and it’s insufferable. I dream about him and see him in every little occurrence in my day. I just want him here with me, but I know it’s best for both of us that he isn’t. I’m still a mess, and he needs to focus on his duties.” Her eyes began to well up.

“Nesta, I’m pretty sure you’re head over heels for the prick. That’s literally the most expressive thing I’ve ever heard you say, and before today I would have doubted you were even capable of showing such emotion. Other than anger of course.” She laughed. “You need to tell him. Even if you’re still healing inside, you’ll probably be that way for awhile. Cauldron knows I’m still holding onto some shit from my past. Let him help you.”

“But I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again. He’s busy traveling around Illyria right now. I have no idea when he’ll stop by next. The last time was a complete surprise, and he left without saying when he’d be back.”

“You’ve still got your key to his cabin, right?” Emerie flashed her a roguish grin. “Come with me. I’ve got a plan, and we’ve got a long walk back to Windhaven in which to discuss it.”

Nesta grabbed the key to her former residence and a small pack with some changes of clothes before bolting out the door after Emerie.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Cassian was exhausted when he landed in Windhaven. He’d spent the last few weeks touring Illyria and had missed his cabin desperately. He was glad to do whatever the Illyrians needed to make sure he put them at ease and ruled over them effectively. Sleeping in inns, flying from camp to camp, and never getting one real break in the midst of it — minus those few hours with Nesta — were grating on him though. **  
**

Gods, to be back in his own bed for the night. 

It would be heavenly, even though it would be empty. These past few weeks of sleeping alone had been excruciating. He knew he’d made the right choice in letting her leave and staying away from her — not that he’d had the time to spend in Stormridge anyways — but those few nights they’d spent together over the past month had been wonderful. 

Sure, he’d felt like he’s was on death’s door, but she’d stayed by his side. And he’d slept as heavily as he could reasonably expect given his condition — the nightmares kept at bay by her companionship.

As Cassian flung open the door, he immediately drew a dagger. Someone had been in here since he left, the ambient scent of his home disturbed. The lock hadn’t been tampered with though.

Cassian inhaled deeply, trying to place the scent. There were hints of Nesta, but she’d become ingrained in the house far before she left, and...Emerie? Why had Emerie needed to break into his house? Feyre had taken all of Nesta’s possessions with them when Nesta left, so she couldn’t have been there looking to find any leftover books.

Letting his guard down a bit, he crept further into the house. Not a thing was out of place. No lights on, nothing seemingly moved. Except Nesta’s door was ajar.

Upon entering, nothing had been disturbed there either. The little sneak must not have found what she was looking for. He’d have to go down to the shop tomorrow when they opened to ask her just _why_ she’d thought it would be a fun little idea to break into his house. She was harmless though.

Cassian rubbed at his temples, eager to just drop into bed and forget the fact that he had to fly back to Velaris tomorrow to report in about his trip. Why the winnowing pricks couldn’t come to him was beginning to grate on him — although that might’ve just been because of the exhaustion. For centuries, he hadn’t minded debriefing in the House of Wind, the flights there and back being good opportunities for him to think.

As he eased open his bedroom door, realization finally hit him. Both of those scents had been fresh. In his exhausted state, he hadn’t really considered the fact that perhaps Nesta’s wasn’t just lingering from her extended tenure in the house, and now…

She was lying on his bed as if she owned it. _Yes she did._ The thought echoed through his head as he took in the sight of her. Red silk robe, deep scarlet lips, hair braided into a coronet atop her head — and that piercing stare. It promised that she was going to devour him.

In this moment, she owned him body and soul — and she knew it. The corners of her mouth tugged up into a smirk as she crawled toward the edge of the bed. Heartrendingly slowly. And through the collar of the robe now hanging dangerously low to the bed, he could see the faintest outline of...barely anything else clinging to her skin at all.

His gaze snapping back to her own, he swallowed, doing his very best not to run toward her. If she was going to play games with him, then he’d have to play right back. He’d been mentally preparing himself for this since their last encounter, knowing the the deeper he fell, the harder it would be to walk away from her, to press pause when they were almost at their climax.

She frowned as she reached the edge of the bed, kneeling there and waiting for him to approach. It was quite clear that she expected him to cave in. 

No. Not today. Not even when she looked so incredibly ravishing in her ensemble, and he knew he hadn’t even unwrapped the best part yet.

Nesta bit down on her lip and then lightly ran her tongue over the small hurt, and the next thing Cassian knew, his wings had flared out, and he was quickly closing the distance between them, scooping her into his arms. 

How dare she tempt him with those cherry-red lips he so desperately wanted to kiss but couldn’t — wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t kiss her at all.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, and it took all his willpower to restrain himself as she ground into him, once, twice… Cassian swiftly had her pressed up against the wall.

Hands finding purchase on her hips, his lips made a beeline to her collarbone. As he nipped at her, she arched her neck, allowing him more access. The scent of her was so strong here that Cassian was unraveling. He kissed and bit and sucked on her skin, loving the marks he was leaving on her.

His. She was _his_. And he’d be damned if the world didn’t know it. Even if she was still holding back with him. Certainly not physically, but…

Nesta must’ve felt the pause, the slip in his step as she reached between the two of them and ripped through the small band of fabric holding the robe in position. He’d seen his fair share of females unrobing throughout his centuries, but all of them paled in comparison to Nesta.

His breath hitched in his throat as he took in the tight crimson corset with onyx ribbing and the thin, matching scrap of lace which just barely concealed the rest of her. 

He had fallen in love with the shape of Nesta immediately when he laid eyes upon her years ago, admiring all of the curves which made her up, and that was even before she’d opened her mouth. 

But now — the cut of the corset accentuated her assets magnificently, exactly as he’d fantasized for these past few years — lately believing that a moment like this would never come to pass. Even with the limp robe still pinned between Nesta and wall, the effect was breathtaking.

He sucked in a breath before releasing his grip on her waist and shrugging his own shirt over his head.

Nesta’s hands began roaming over his chest, always pressing more delicately when they traveled over the scar across his abdomen which was still a prominent feature. 

When he was still frozen, lost in the beauty that was Nesta, she brought him back to the moment by dragging her nails down his back, indiscriminate of the tender spots where his wings joined with his flesh.

His control slipped almost entirely as he removed them from the wall and flipped her onto her back on the bed, hovering over her and drinking her in. One hand roughly cupped a breast, her nipple peaked even through the fabric that he was two seconds from ripping away, but it looked so damn _good_ on her that he steadied himself and continued playing with it through the lining. 

With his mouth, he began to kiss a line from her throat to her other breast, teasing the fabric with his tongue when he reached the roadblock and causing Nesta to hitch underneath him. Excellent.

Knowing full well the effect his ministrations were having on her, he continued southward with his kisses and nips, running over the ribbing of the corset which halted slightly above her navel and drawing them out.

_One. Two. Three._ The numbers sounded breathless in his own mind as he painstakingly counted them out after every peck, heightening the electricity in the air between them with every delicate one.

Down, down, down. Until he traced the line of her panties.

He had no need to part her legs with his knee as he found them already perfectly spread and waiting for him as he dipped his head between them and, maintaining the same surely-infuriating pace, he kissed down the line of fabric separating him from all of her glory on one side and then the other.

He glanced up quickly to see that Nesta had her eyes closed and was panting at the head of the bed, but she still hadn’t satisfied him yet. Hadn’t given him what he needed before he took another step.

Willing to try to pry it out of her a little more, he lowered his head again and made another pass along her thighs, this time lightly flicking his tongue around the edge of her underwear and placing a few more tantalizing kisses on top of the fabric itself, negligible as it was. He could taste her through it, and forced himself to halt before letting himself go any further. He hovering around the point of no return.

Putting on a casual air, he lifted his head and then slipped from between her legs to rest his head on the pillow next to hers, grinning at her all the while.

At the look of sheer disbelief on her face as she stared up at him, he just chuckled, “You know the rules, sweetheart.” He knew she could hear how loudly his heart was clanging against his ribcage. He knew that if she cared to peek at the tight leather pants he had on that she would see the effect this was having on him as well.

“Cassian.” Her voice was husky, sultry. Gods, had she been practicing for this? It was one he’d never heard before, but Cauldron-be-damned was it intoxicating.

“I need you, Cassian.” She fingered at the lip of her panties, dragging the waistband down slightly. He was going to explode from wanting her, he was going to…

“Please, Cassian. It’s such a tiny scrap of lace, and this top is barely held on by it’s clasp.” Her hand move up to cup her own breasts. “Surely, you’ll have no trouble ripping it off me.” Her voice was becoming slightly more unhinged as he remained steady. 

Whatever game she was playing, she was running out of moves, and like a predator closing in on its prey, he could sense it.

“No, Nesta. I ask only one thing of you, but I will have all of you or nothing at all.” The words were strained as he struggled to hide the fact that there, face-to-face with her in the moment, he was running out of moves too. He’d have to excuse himself soon, not thinking he could contain himself if he was forced to breathe her in much longer.

Nesta paused for a moment before her eyes snapped shut and she blurted out, “I love you, okay?!” She sounded almost angry as the words exploded from her mouth.

His heart stopped. “What was that?” As much as he’d dreamed of hearing the words and definitely envisioned them being murmured in his ear as opposed to being spewed at him with the force of a thousand suns, his brain was having trouble processing them.

“I said...I love you, Cassian,” she murmured, her heartbeat ratcheting in her chest and her breathing picking up speed. Cassian had to admit that Nesta looked almost cute right now as she tried to gauge his reaction. Nervousness on her was a fun change of pace for him.

“I came here today to tell you that. I couldn’t stay away any longer. I missed you, Cassian. I’m… I’m in love with you. I think I have been for awhile. I just didn’t know exactly what this feeling was or how to express it.”

As that last word rolled off the tip of her tongue, Cassian brought his lips towards hers and whispered, “I love you too, Nes,” as they collided and the floodgates unleashed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

The touch of his lips against hers was an unleashing. Her body sang at the contact which was somehow deeper and more intimate than any other they’d shared.

At the first brush of their lips, he’d kept the kiss slow and tentative, savoring the moment before he bit down on her lip and she opened for him completely. His tongue entered and began to lightly massage her own as she deepened the kiss, running her fingers through his hair.

She’d always wanted to do that. To get to play with his silky locks.

Cassian was hovering barely an inch above her skin, and the air between them was pulsing with electricity, Nesta’s nearly-bare breasts peaked and craving more, more, more of him.

She took advantage of the steadying knee which was placed between her legs and ground against it, all-the-while in her head reliving those moments mere minutes ago when he’d been so close to giving her exactly what she wanted that she’d been about to combust — those kisses nearly shattering her with the sheer desire and anticipation she had been experiencing.

She let out a groan as his body moved to help her, his leg grinding back against her as he began to move it in a slight, circular motion.

She needed him inside her. The wait had been agonizing. Not just as he teased her mercilessly earlier this evening, but ever since that fateful goodbye in the hallway, she’d known that he was like a drug to her. 

She’d been in withdrawal for the past few weeks from a simple encounter in which there wasn’t even any sexual contact. And every single moment spent near him had brought her closer to this high.

She ground harder against his leg, letting out a series of more exaggerated moans, tempting him further. She needed to get out of these blasted clothes.

Removing one hand from his hair, she reached down to remove her panties, but Cassian snatched her wrist in midair.

“Oh no, Nesta dear,” he purred, smirking as he looked her dead in the eyes. “That won’t do at all.”

With a flick of his wrist, the front of the corset had been slashed through and Cassian lowered his head again, this time to her neck.

“You’re mine, Nesta Archeron,” he breathed from just below her ear. “I’ve wanted to shout that from the mountaintops from the moment I met you, and tonight, I’m going to prove it to you.”

He tugged down hard on her earlobe, dragging a low moan from deep inside her as one rough hand began teasing her nipple. It was hard to focus on any one sensation as he bit and sucked at her neck — not hard enough to break the skin, but it was obvious that he wanted to leave more marks in addition to those he’d left earlier this evening — and roughly massaged her nipple, flicking and pinching it as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. 

Mother above. This was even better than she had dreamed it would be.

He eventually trailed kisses down to her breasts, this time giving them the attention they truly deserved as he kissed and licked over the small hurts his hands had inflicted and sent trails of fire straight into her already heated core.

His tongue flicked lazily around one nipple as his hands moved to grip her hips and his body slid between her legs.

He quickly kissed down the trail of her stomach, in a hurry to reach his destination, and when he had almost arrived where she most ached for his touch, he bent down on his knees and hoisted her abdomen off the bed, resting her legs on his shoulders and holding her steady with both hands beneath her hips.

He began kissing her tantalizingly around his target before grabbing the scrap of fabric covering her in his teeth and slowly easing it down her legs before reaching a point where he either had to move her out of position to continue trailing it down her legs or simply just rip it off. He chose wisely.

His tongue flicked lazy circles around that tender spot, teasing sharp jolts out of Nesta before he moved lower on her, tongue dipping into her. He began stroking in long, wide sweeps up and down, up and down, eliciting deep moans from inside her. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he kept coaxing her onward, the blood rushing to her head not the only reason she was beyond dizzy right now.

She began to have more ragged breaths, peppered with moans, as she could feel her body responding, as she clenched her hands into fists in the sheet below her — the only purchase she could reach — and Cassian picked up his pace. His tongue moving faster on her, devouring her, his focus moving more and more northward until he was circling her clit, and Nesta shattered completely, her back arching further as his hands moved with her.

He slowed his tongue to a lazy flicker as she began to relax, gently massaging her and keeping her stimulated until — it sharply flicked over her sensitive clit, causing her to jolt. He retreated for a few seconds before repeating the motion.

_Prick_.

She opened her eyes to find him smirking down at her, and holding her stare, he did it one last time before gently lowering her legs to the bed and pouncing on top of her.

She was going to eat him alive. She pulled his face back down to her own, savoring her own taste on his tongue, proof of the fact that she owned him completely — that he was hers and nobody else’s.

Luckily, Emerie had prepared her to seek revenge for the small torment he’d just inflicted on her, showing her a few key spots on a male’s wings that would leave him breathless.

Removing one hand from the back of his head, she lightly grazed a spot close to the apex of his right wing, right below some of the ribbing. It was barely enough to even feel the silky texture of it, but Cassian moaned into her mouth, hitching slightly as his body leaned into the touch.

She repeated the process on his other wing before he growled out, “Do you want me to cum right now or would you rather _enjoy_ the experience?”

“I think I’m enjoying it just fine,” she purred sweetly as she took the finger that was still on that wing and dragged it southward. Cassian was instantly standing up and ripping his pants off, allowing her a glimpse of his proud, thick length. _Finally_.

Holy gods.

He prowled back across the bed until her was over her, but she simply twirled her finger, gesturing at him until he rolled over, lying next to her, wings flared beneath him, and allowed her to mount him.

As she slipped onto his impressive length, Nesta couldn’t help but realize how different this felt. She’d used this position dozens of times, wanting to dominate the cocky males she’d brought home from the bar, but for the first time ever, this felt right. This felt good. This felt like anything at all. And especially, this made her feel whole.

Even as she tried to lord the position over him, it not being in her nature to let him know that he’d won her over so completely, she couldn’t help the smile that was plastered on her face and the hot, salty tears that were now streaming down her cheeks in abundance.

Not wanting him to see her like this, she commanded him to close his eyes as she began to move on him. Her hands on his chest she began thrusting, riding him and savoring the feeling of his cock filling her to the brim.

As she got into a rhythm, she felt his hands grab her waist, guiding her and eventually starting to pull her hips down harder, intensifying the blows.

When they were both panting heavily, one of his hands slid around to thumb at her already-sensitive clit, and Nesta dissolved into pleasure, groaning out his name as she went over the edge.

Her words must’ve pushed him over as well as he tensed beneath her and let out a breathless series of moans before they both stilled.

They gazed at each other for a moment before Nesta eased off of him and collapsed next to him in bed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hiding her face, still embarrassed at her blatant display of her feelings which had probably dampened the mood and made it less enjoyable for him.

“Hey.” He tucked a hand under her chin and tugged until they were face-to-face.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” He kissed her brow. “I know this night was full of a lot of firsts for you — with me at least. The fact that you were so overwhelmed with emotion, that I could tell you were feeling everything in that moment, was all I could ever ask for. I love you, Nesta. Every piece of you. Broken bits and all.”

She planted a soft kiss on his lips, utterly grateful for this male that loved her more than she could have ever deserved.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

“So what now?” Nesta asked over her cup of coffee the next morning. **  
**

She’d woken up cradled in his arms this morning, feeling so incredibly lucky. She’d never expected that Cassian would outright reject her last night, but she hadn’t imagined how amazing the night would be. Honestly, other than the fact that she hadn’t been able to tempt him with her wiles alone, she couldn’t have imagined the evening going any better.

And then Cassian stirred behind her this morning, and it was all she could do not to jump him immediately, before he’d even awoken enough to be conscious of what was happening. Instead, she’d waited, and it had been worth it.

He’d started by planting kisses along the back of her neck and wrapping one hand around her abdomen until he had two fingers buried gloriously inside her.

 They were still both fully bare, having fallen asleep cuddling after having sex last night so she’d felt him hard against her backside since she’d awoken, but at the sound of her moans, she’d felt him twitch momentarily before Cassian had pounced on top of her and made love to her again.

“Care for a trip to Velaris?” Cassian grinned, his smile faltering as he saw Nesta wince.

“I’m due back there this morning to report in on the state of Illyria after all my camp visits. I’ll obviously be fashionably late at this point,” he shrugged, “but I’ve been _quite_ busy lately, and I’m sure at least one of those pricks can relate.” He winked at her.

Nesta had been dreading setting foot back in Velaris ever since she got over the initial shock and rejection at being kicked out. It seemed like nothing good had ever happened to her in that city. She’d been trapped there after being changed. They’d gone to war and then returned there with her utterly broken. And she didn’t dare recall those months when she’d done her best to completely wreck herself. She instinctively just started shaking her head, the only movement she could make right now.

“Hey.” He gripped her chin firmly in his calloused hand, forcing her to look up at him. “If you don’t want to go back there yet, I’ll understand. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for, but I would like you to join my inner circle if you’re willing.”

Eyes still locked on his own, she nodded. That was something she could do. This was her home now. Even if she couldn’t yet face the city that’d felt like a prison to her, couldn’t face some of the others who’d surely have some choice words for her, she could help him with this.

“Thanks, love.” He leaned in and kissed her fervently before relaxing his grip on her chin. “Now I’ve got to go get dressed. As much as I’d love to wow everyone with this magnificence,” he gestured to his impressive body, “I suddenly have this urge to save this for your eyes only.” He winked and disappeared back into his — now their — bedroom.

After he’d thrown on a casual set of leathers and was strapping into his boots, he mentioned, “I should be back around sundown. Feel free to meet with the others if you want. Most of them have been staying at the inn in the camp square. Or just relax if you need to. But when I get back tonight, I’m taking you out. Now that we’re officially together, I’m dying for the chance to finally show you off.” There was that infuriating yet endearing wink again.

If she were being honest, Nesta was really looking forward to this. Even if he couldn’t just come out and say that he was excited to just court her and spend time with her.

“We’ll see,” she said flatly, picking at her nails. “Perhaps I’m not ready to have people assuming I’m dating an immensely overgrown bat.”

He flashed her a wicked grin, before reaching for the door. “Have it your way then, but I’m going to go shout it from the top of Ramiel so there will be no ‘assuming’ to be done. They’ll know I’m yours.”

“I don’t suppose I could just take you to the town market and conveniently lose you in the crowd, could I?” Nesta shot back.

“I’m afraid someone would take one look at my collar and know exactly who I belong to,” he retorted, arching his neck and pulling his hair up so some of the bite marks she’d left on him this morning were more visible. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily, Nes.” With that, he stepped outside and shot into the air, leaving Nesta chuckling in the foyer.

* * *

She took a walk around Windhaven, reacquainting herself with the home she’d missed the past few weeks, but ended up feeling too exhausted to try to make introductions with the others. 

Cassian had briefly told her about them. There were six other members all hailing from camps all across Illyria. Petros she knew, but there were also Arina, Lukas, Helena, Hale, and Kaya. 

They seemed nice enough from Cassian’s descriptions of them, all strong, open-minded individuals who were well-renowned in their respective camps. Most of them were fairly young, by Illyrian standards, the males having completed the Blood Rite. Unfortunately, the females had already been clipped, but that was just a stronger reminder of what they were fighting for, the injustices they were overturning so that others wouldn’t have to suffer the same fate.

She had all of her eternity to spend working with them. What was a few more days of peace and settling into her new life in the grand scheme of things?

Her mind was aching to train, but her body was screaming at the prospect. She’d taken a beating only a couple of nights ago and last night and this morning had provided plenty of exercise to keep her in shape.

She opted instead to go borrow a book from Emerie. She’d drowned herself so completely in her training while she lived in Stormridge that she hadn’t picked one up since she left, which was a real shame.

* * *

Nesta read until it was dark outside, savoring the alone time she’d been craving. Just when her stomach was beginning to growl, as she waited for her dinner companion, she heard a key rattling in the lock. 

Thank the Cauldron. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait. Even just in the afternoon that he’d been gone, she’d missed him. She’d started to wonder whether or not she’d made a mistake by refusing his offer to accompany him to Velaris.

He swept into the cabin and scooped her into his arms. “I hope you’re ready to leave, because I can’t go another minute without showing you off. It killed me to have to show up alone at the House of Wind. Especially once my brothers scented you on me and gave me hell for it. Seems that both of them are under the impression that if a male is lucky enough to snag an Archeron sister, they must treat her like a queen.” 

At that word, he paused, both of them seemingly remembering in that moment that he was a king.  


She was happy with Cassian, but it wasn’t a conversation she was ready to even consider having yet. For all intents and purposes, they’d only been together for a day now. _A day._ A future with him, a forever with him, was something she couldn’t be sure she wanted without more time. Especially if it came with such a huge responsibility as well.

Nesta quickly deflected, suggesting, “Well, if you feel that way, I expect you to treat me to the finest meal Windhaven has to offer.”

“And you had better spare no expense,” she added with a wicked grin.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, _dear_ ,” he crooned, shooting them into the sky and taking her to a cozy eatery situated on the river which hugged the edge of a neighboring camp.

She was stunned at the candlelit table they were led to, near the riverbank. Most of the restaurants in Windhaven were just taverns or small, barebones hole-in-the-walls.

“You didn’t expect me to take you to one of those dumps, did you?” he asked, gleaning her thoughts. “I lived here for a good portion of my life. I know that those hovels had no chance of impressing you tonight.”

They sat down and ordered. As their menus were being taken away, Cassian took a sip of his water, and opened with, “So did you meet with the circle today?”

Nesta shook her head. “I needed a break. I just relaxed in bed with a book.” She shrugged.

He waved it off. “It’s all good. We can introduce you tomorrow. I would like you to meet them before they disperse again though. They’ve been graciously staying here for the past couple of weeks, but I’ll need them to return back to their home camps soon. We need a presence throughout Illyria if we’re going to keep ourselves relevant to their needs.”

“Have you ever thought about consolidating them into one camp?”

“I did, but there’s no neutral territory here except the sacred lands around Ramiel, and nobody in their right mind would disturb those lands. That’s practically asking for an assassination attempt. And I don’t need to encourage them in that department.” Nesta’s heart dropped into her stomach.

“And I’ve thought about bringing them here to Windhaven, but like I said, that’s almost putting too much perceived power in Devlon’s hands. I know it’s unadvisable that I — we — continue to stay here, but I can’t imagine any other place as home.”

“What about Sleetshade?” Nesta whispered, worried about how he might receive the suggestion. She’d thought about it a lot today, when she realized the current living arrangements for the other circle members was a little tenuous.

Cassian was quiet for a minute, long enough for Nesta to wonder if she’d actually upset him with the suggestion.

“It was burned to the ground centuries ago. It’s uninhabitable now. Good riddance,” he murmured, his face stony.

“That’s just because nobody’s bothered to revive it. They’ve been too terrified of what you’d do to them. But maybe it’s time to move on, Cassian. Nobody has a claim on that land. What if we rebuilt it? It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just a town that’s purely ours — yours I mean. We can honor her memory, build that into the history of Illyria so one day everyone will know her name.”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. 

Shit. She’d pushed him too far. She’d known it was a risky subject to bring up with him. He’d only uttered the name of the camp once in her presence, probably not even expecting her to care enough to remember about his birth town and his mother at the time.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Nesta,” he choked out. “Ah, sorry. Not once in my centuries of existence has anyone ever thought to remember her like that. My brothers helped me raze Sleetshade to the ground, but I think...I think she’d like this. For me to use her as a symbol of hope and healing.” 

Nesta reached across the table to dab at his eyes with a napkin, and Cassian continued. “We’ll build ourselves a house there, build ourselves some public buildings for holding court, and build enough extra homes that our families, friends, and emissaries have places to stay whenever they need them. I love it.”

“I love _you_ , and I’m glad this is an idea that you like. I’ve been thinking about it all day, hoping it was something you’d be willing to do.”

“You’re amazing. It’s exactly what I needed.” Cassian leaned over the table to give her a peck on the cheek. “Now let’s get to work.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Eight months had passed. **  
**

In that time, Nesta and Cassian had almost completed the rebuilding Sleetshade. Their home, which while being slightly bigger than the Windhaven cabin was still fairly modest — more equitable to the townhouse than Rhys and Feyre’s riverfront estate.

They had an official gathering place in the center of the camp where Cassian could hold court, and a meeting chamber located right off of the square for the council to convene. Not all of the remaining cabins were constructed yet, but the commercial district was completely set up. 

They’d had open sign-ups for businesses who’d like to move to Sleetshade to help stimulate its growth once it was rebuilt, and the response had been overwhelming. 

They’d had to hold a lottery amongst the different shop owners to ensure the outcome was fair. Luckily for Nesta, Emerie was one of the few selected. It just made her adoption of this life in this new town all the more welcome.

In the middle of the camp square, positioned right behind Cassian’s throne was a giant pine tree with a stone placard on it. They’d found the solitary tree towering over all the others in the clearing where the old camp had once stood. Cassian had taken it as a sign that his mother was still watching over them now and perhaps smiling down on him as she saw all that he’d accomplished in his long life.

Villagers and Illyrian pilgrims alike were encouraged to leave presents or tie pieces of parchment with their wishes to the tree, to foster a spirit of wellbeing in their community, and to be an always-visible reminder to Cassian every time he took up his crown about what and whom he was fighting for.

As they furnished their new home, they brought touches of the old — the cabin in Windhaven would always hold a place in their hearts. As trying as some of their time spent in it might have been, it was where they’d finally come together, two halves of the same whole.

They’d still keep it as a retreat, but they’d built this new home together, pieces of both of them in the design.

It was still highly functional, as any good Illyrian home should be, but they’d brought a touch of brightness with them. 

Feyre had volunteered to donate some of her paintings to them, and Elain had gifted them with a small assortment of potted succulents. 

When Nesta had cringed at the thought of having to actually care for the plants in order to keep them alive, Elain had reassured her that she’d chosen some of the easiest ones to tend, knowing that her sister was far too busy to handle real flowers.

It had taken a little while, but Nesta was finally in a good place with her sisters now. Apologizing profusely for the way she treated them during her stint in Velaris after the war had brought out a lot of tears and an abundance of apologies in return for the fact that they hadn’t known how to help her and had let their own misguided judgment taint their relationship further in those trying months.

Once the crying had let up, the three decided to have a girls’ night in the mountain cabin where they caught up on each other’s lives from the past few years. 

Feyre and Elain had remained relatively close throughout but still managed to be shocked as they in turn related secrets about their three cocky Illyrian brothers that had them giggling well into the night.

Amren had taken Nesta back with a simple, “Glad to see you’ve finally come to your senses,” and insisting that their spat on the barge was old news at this point. She now came for weekly visits.

They’d resumed her training with her powers, and though Nesta still had yet to figure out exactly what her dark gift was, learning how to release some of that pent-up energy actually helped her relax. 

She’d figured out simple tasks like turning lights on and off or locking and unlocking doors ages ago, but since she’d been terrified of using it for the past couple of years, she hadn’t realized just how much of a release it afforded her.

Mor and Azriel were another matter. The two tolerated her now at least though, the former recognizing the shift in Cassian’s mood when Nesta was by his side and the latter softened by the fact that she doted on Elain again. 

While their relationships were still dicey, at least they could be in the same room for family dinners and holiday celebrations without the former icy tension being cast upon the evening, and that was really all Nesta needed from them.

Rhysand was his own animal. She could tell he was having trouble forgiving her for all those years Feyre spent caring for their family in that ramshackle hut, but for Feyre, he was treating Nesta cordially, as one diplomat would treat another. 

Thank the Cauldron she at least didn’t have to live near those two anymore.

* * *

Moving day was tomorrow — the day where Sleetshade would be officially be considered open for business and all the awaiting villagers could move in. Nesta found herself packing their last few bags of belongings and sighing as she saw how barebones the Windhaven cabin looked now. They’d left most of the furniture, as well as any accessories they’d need if they were to come visit their old home, but it saddened her to see all the life sucked out of this place.

This was where her life had started for the second time, the building that had felt most like a home to her.

As she packed up another pile of books — their collection had been increasing rapidly as Cassian now indulged in cuddling in bed and reading next to her at night — she felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her. She hadn’t expected him to be home from training so soon.

“You know, you could probably do that all with the snap of a finger.” He kissed the hollow just beneath her ear. “It would save us a lot of time to do...other things.” 

Yes, her prowess with her magical powers had been growing, but she wasn’t about to let him distract her from the task at hand.

She _wanted_ to do it this way. It felt more personal, more human in a way. Like she were saying a final farewell to their abode instead of impersonally waving a hand and having all their worldly possessions reappear in the new house.

She swatted him off as if he were a gnat that wouldn’t stop buzzing in her ear. “Agh. If you’re going to insist on bothering me, the least you could do it grab a few boxes and help with the heavy-lifting in the meantime.”

He stuck his tongue out at her but quickly made himself useful, packing up some of the clothes still remaining in their armoire.

A few minutes later, he turned around with his arms completely full of Nesta’s undergarments.

“Dear lord, Nes. How many little scraps of lace do you need? This is the second batch I’ve grabbed to throw in this box. You’re going to dry out our coffers in no time.”

“I’ve never heard a single complaint anytime I’ve worn those lacy little things for you, _darling_ ,” she crooned, hissing out the last word. “And besides, their survival rate is sickeningly low. If I don’t constantly buy more to counteract your boorish ways, they’ll become an endangered species.”

He just glared at her. “I don’t remember you ever complaining about my methods of undressing you before now.” He tilted his head, a predatory gleam in his eye. “But I’m certainly willing to learn if you’d like to show me how you ‘civilized’ folk do it.”

Nesta’s nostrils flared, that look sending heat pooling into her core.

Cassian grabbed the strap of leather off his wrist, quickly tying his hair in a bun, and tackled Nesta onto her back, the bed groaning beneath them. “I think you’ll find me a most diligent student.” He nipped at her ear as he whispered the words.

“Lesson one,” Nesta used a fighting maneuver to flip them over so Cassian was underneath her. “You’re going to have to be truly skilled with your hands.” She slid her dress over her head so just her undergarments were exposed before bending low so he’d have access to her back to unhook her bra. He effortlessly unclasped it, letting it fall down onto his chest. Showoff.

“Lesson two,” she crawled over him until her abdomen was hovering directly over his face. “You must be equally as skilled with your teeth.”

He groaned at the opportunity now presented to him as he lowered her to his mouth, slipping his tongue past the scrap of fabric and licked.

“No cheating!” Nesta barked out, shivering at the touch. “You can only have your prize once you’ve unwrapped it.

Begrudgingly, Cassian took the edge of the underwear in his teeth and quickly worked both sides of them down her hips until they were freely falling, at which point, he scooped them in one hand, and guided them the rest of the way down her legs, as she accommodated him.

“I’m not sure that counts. You barely passed the assignment,” she huffed as he deftly flipped them back over so he was straddling her once more.

“No fair,” he groaned, clearly desperate to have more of her right now, just as she craved him to take her completely.

“How about you make it up to me? If you can show me how incredibly skilled your hands and tongue are in other areas, I’ll give you extra credit.”

With a growl of approval, Cassian obliged her.

* * *

Nesta’s nerves were shot. They’d just finished unloading all their boxes in the new house and were now in the village circle. She and the rest of the council were seated in chairs placed around Cassian’s throne as the villagers came to celebrate the christening of their new capital.

Cassian was giving a speech, and even though Nesta had made plenty of public appearances before now and had been helping to lead these people for the better part of a year, her nervousness was still getting the better of her. 

She’d barely heard a word he’d said as he went on and on about new beginnings and maintaining the Illyrian customs and whatever else he’d stuffed into his speech.

Everyone was here, and she was trying to focus her eyes mainly on the front row where both her sisters sat, as they raptly paid attention to the speech.

After what seemed like ages, Nesta noticed Feyre looking back at her for once, as her sister grinned at her and gave her a huge thumbs up. What had Nesta really done to deserve that today? 

It wasn’t about her, it was about the Illyrians and Cassian’s first major accomplishment as their ruler.

That’s when she noticed that not only was Feyre looking at her, but most of the crowd was now staring at her as well. She turned to Cassian, on her left, to see if he’d stopped speaking. Perhaps she was supposed to say something now, as one of his council members.

She found his eyes on her as well, as well as those of Hale, Lukas, and Arina who were seated to his other side.

Cassian took her hand in hers, and turned to face her fully.

“Nesta Archeron, ever since the moment I met you, there’s been an unquellable fire in your soul, which has been burning me alive and has never been able to be extinguished. Your heart smoulders with the strength of an Illyrian.” 

“Perhaps that’s what attracted me to you in the first place — in those stolen moments in your bedroom in the human realm, when I’d creep into the library in the House of Wind just to see what you were reading so I could get a better read on you, when you fiercely tended to the wounded during the war against Hybern. Your incredible strength has shined through in droves.”  


_What the fuck was he doing?_

“When you were taken from me, when I saw the light of that fire leave your eyes, I knew it was still in there hiding somewhere. Over time, I began to doubt this though. I began to waver. When I looked at this beautiful gift from the Cauldron, empty of all life, all joy, I wondered how in the world I could ever get you back.”

“But then one day I made an extremely stupid, reckless decision, and I almost paid the ultimate price for it, but you wouldn’t have that. You stayed by my side during the healing, fighting for me even as I had mistakenly stopped fighting for you, and I could see a glimmer of hope in your eyes. You weren’t done with yourself or with me just yet. I’m so incredibly grateful for that, even if it was at times one of the worst weeks of my life.”

“And then you stayed by me. I’m not sure what I’ve done in my life to be such a lucky male, but if you’ll promise to stay by me for the rest of our immortal lives, I’ll spend every day stoking that flame and treating you like the queen you always have been. Nesta Archeron, will you marry me? Will you do me the honor of being my queen?”

He was down on one knee now, in front of all these people, his subjects, and in his hands was a stunning ruby ring.

The gem, which conveniently was the same shade as one of his siphons, was enormous, cut into a delicate pear shape with a thin, elegantly twisting band of gold with tiny diamonds studded throughout.

Nesta’s hands flew to her face. “Holy shit.” It was all she could say as she nodded profusely, tears streaming down her face — and his she realized.

Eventually she remembered to hold out her shaking left hand so he could slip the ring on. This was the happiest day of her life, but she was still going to kick his ass later tonight for doing this so publicly, even if she truly understood why he and his people would want this to happen in a formal setting.


	21. Chapter 21

Today was the day. 

Nesta had opted for a glimmering black gown, as stunning and faceted as the night. **  
**

In the sunlight though, one could see that the glimmering accents held a hint of red, all the better to match her soon-to-be husband. Her King.

In the weeks since his proposal, they’d been feverishly planning the wedding. Given their positions, the Inner Circle had suggested they make it a public affair, which clashed with the low-key event the two of them had originally wanted. 

In exchange though, Azriel and Elain had promised to fill in as regents for a few weeks in order to let them have the honeymoon of their dreams.

[[MORE]]

They’d be touring the countryside, with stays not only throughout the Night Court, but Dawn and Day had offered to host them as well. Which was just fine with Nesta as long as they steered clear of Helion. 

She hadn’t forgotten about his little offer that had been made during the High Lord’s summit, but she wasn’t looking to share Cassian anytime soon.

 _He was hers._ A primal possessiveness roiled in her gut at the thought of him with anyone else.

As Feyre finished braiding her hair, half up in a braided crown and half down in soft curls, falling around her shoulders, Nesta allowed herself a glance in the mirror.

Even she had to admit that she was breathtaking. Her lips had once again been painted a deadly shade of scarlet, and they’d swept a vicious line of kohl to accentuate her eyes. Her wedding present from Feyre and Rhysand had been some stunning earrings and a teardrop necklace from the family jewels which perfectly accented her wedding band.

The change she’d made in just the past year was astounding. When she’d looked in the mirror back then, she’d hated the reflection staring back at her, a filthy, half-drunk reminder that she was worthless. She’d even gotten to the point where most days she didn’t bother to style her hair.

But that was firmly behind her now. The past year had been the happiest of her life. She’d thought she’d found joy when their wealth had returned while they were still living in the small sliver of the human lands, but now she knew that was a paltry feeling compared to how she felt when she was with Cassian.

Sure, they still antagonized each other and did their best to get on each other’s nerves — they each had a competitive spirit which wouldn’t allow either to back down or cave in, but those were the moments which fueled her and helped her deal with the now-small pains which still plagued her.

She still had the nightmares, still had moments where her body would seize up entirely, but they were fewer and farther between. And when she slept in the protection of his arms, which was almost every night, the terrors would leave her more quickly as he chased them away with soothing strokes down her back and murmured comforting words in her ears.

“You ready?” Elain returned to the room, looking radiant in the dove-grey dress that both of her sisters had chosen to wear, as they would stand next to her at the end of the aisle.

Nesta just nodded, the nerves finally hitting her. It was finally happening. Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. Try not to cry.

Feyre came around to take one of her arms, giving her a quick hug. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but today is going to be _amazing_ — after you make it down that aisle, and trust me, I know how hard that can be,” her sister chuckled at the long ago memory of that disastrous day all those years ago in the Spring Court.

“We’ll be with you the whole time,” smiled Elain, as she stepped to Nesta’s other side.

In lieu of their father walking her down the aisle, both her sisters had volunteered to give her away, wanting her to be able to keep some of the human wedding traditions and showing her their support on this biggest day of her life.

“Thanks. I’m ready.” 

The three of them made their way out of the meeting hall which had been used as her dressing chambers for the day and stepped into the town circle. At the end of a long line of Illyrians, seeming to stretch on forever, she saw Cassian standing on the dais.

He looked stunningly handsome in a fine suit which Rhys must’ve helped him pick out, his hair combed for once, and the goofiest grin on his face as he beheld his bride for the first time.

As she slowly made her way down the aisle, having to pace herself to keep from running into his arms, she felt herself beginning to tear up. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined herself being this happy if you’d asked her before she’d begun dating Cassian.

They reached the end of the aisle and Feyre and Elain each let go of her arms and took a step back, allowing her to walk up the steps to her groom.

As soon as she reached him, he took both her hands in her own, squeezing them reassuringly as they both grinned at each other. It took all her willpower not to just jump into his arms and try to take him right then and there. He seemed to be having the same thoughts as he just lifted one of his eyebrows suggestively and winked at her.

She knew Azriel was giving some sort of speech behind them, but damn her to hell, all she could focus on was staring into Cassian’s wild hazel eyes and sharing this secret conversation with him. 

“…so Cassian do you take Nesta to be your wife, until the Cauldron may deem it time for you to part in death?”

“Hell yes.” His gaze was unwavering.

“Nesta, do you take Cassian to be your husband, until the Cauldron may deem it time for you to part in death?”

Fuck the Cauldron.

“I do. And I want you to no that I have no regrets in my life, Cassian. Everything that’s happened has led me to you, has given me _time_ with you. I vow that the Cauldron will not be able to part us, even in death. We will find each other in the next world — the next life. And we will have all of eternity together. I promise.”

Cassian’s jaw dropped, as they both were taken back to that day on the cliff where he’d professed his love to her for the first time.

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

The words were in vain as Cassian had already placed a hand around Nesta’s lower back and pulled her to him, his other hand cupping her face as his lips brushed against hers, relishing in their taste. Propriety-be-damned, she leaned into the kiss, deepening it and almost forgetting the rest of world were it not for the raucous cheering breaking out from the crowd.

As they pulled away, it was time for the final part of the ceremony. Her heart was beating out of her chest as Rhysand ascended the dais, a large wooden box in his hands. 

This was to be her biggest surprise of the day. Cassian had supposedly designed her crown himself, but he’d refused to give her even the slightest hint as to what it would look like.

Rhysand set the box on the pedestal and opened it to reveal not one, but two crowns. The first was larger, still mainly the onyx-like material of his first crown, but now there were threads of gold woven into it. It was much less ornate than the old Night Court crown, this time just a simple band with a depiction of Ramiel among a few smaller mountain. But those golden accents lit it up like living flame. Speaking of which…

Her own crown was delicately made of a brilliant gold, with veins of the onyx material threaded throughout, the foil to Cassian’s. Tiny rubies studded throughout accented the blazing flames shaped into it. It was absolutely perfect, and she knew without having to try it on that it would be a perfect fit and accent her current ensemble amazingly. Smart male.

Nesta gave Cassian a wild grin as he reached for his own crown, replacing the one he’d worn for the past year. He signaled for her to kneel, facing the crowd as he took the reigns, their High Lord and Lady fading into the background, anointing her with the same sacred words which were spoken at his own coronation.

Nesta opened her eyes as her husband delicately placed her crown on her brow and really looked at the crowd, these people who were now hers to command and protect as Cassian roared at the top of his lungs,

“Rise, Nesta Archeron, Queen of Illyria.”

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are the property of Sarah J. Maas


End file.
